


asterismos

by thericeraven



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto and Kuroo are bros, Fluff and Angst, Fortune Telling, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mage Akaashi Keiji, Masquerade Ball, Mutual Pining, Prince Bokuto Koutarou, Prince Kuroo Tetsurou, Secret Identity, Tarot, akaashi is morosexual, akaashi owns a curiosity shop, gratuitous tarot and owl and celestial imagery, royal advisor kenma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thericeraven/pseuds/thericeraven
Summary: asterismos/ˈastərɪz(ə)mos/"marked by stars"; their singular brilliance seeps deep into the bones of a forlorn lover, one who knows that they cannot ever be with the one they love; even if they can coax the will of the stars, they would never be so cruel as to steal a star out of the sky where it belongs.✧❅✦❅✧Bokuto Koutarou, the crown prince and only heir to the throne of Fukurodani, doesn't fancy the idea of getting married. So he throws a masquerade ball, unrelenting in his stubborn quest to remain wild and free.Akaashi Keiji, a powerful celestial mage who chose to set up shop in Fukurodani after a lifetime of roaming the lands, finds a very distressed prince at his doorstep, seeking professional help in throwing a ball.Well, how can he deny the crown prince himself, especially with a face like that?When Bokuto falls for both the handsome masked stranger he shares one dance with when the music crescendoes at his own ball, as well as the pretty yet reserved mage with the shop full of curiosities, what will he do? How will he choose? Will he subvert convention and duty, choosing to follow his own heart, or will he rise up to the occasion and lead Fukurodani into a new era?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 103
Kudos: 247





	1. the crown prince

When the sun grazed the hilly horizon known only to the kingdom of Fukurodani, nary a single soul was awake. Quiet breaths echoed through still rooms, the kingdom starting to unsettle from its slumber. The slightest hints of gold started streaking across the skies, shooting through wisps of cotton clouds and announcing daybreak. The light crept across the land, painting houses and spires and towers and monuments with the promise of a new day.

There was the hoot of an owl somewhere on the edges of the land, a solemn cry piercing the air, ringing through the colorful town square and over shingled roofs. The kingdom was starting to rise, a blanket of life breathed into the earth by the chilly winds from the North. The air hung with a particular chill on this morning, one that kept you buried under layers of sheets and shivering on your way out of the house, but not enough to warrant snow.

Winter was on its way.

If one were to ride the wind shooting fast over the rooftops and up, up, up into the mountains, one would spy a castle of stone and glass and gold. It was a castle fit for a king, a queen, a boisterous and almost over-ambitious crown prince, and their eighty-two staff members. It was a grand sight, one built of looming towers and sharp pointy spires and long window panes, the surface shining with a brilliance befit of the royal family living within its sturdy walls.

And if one were to peer into one of the high windows on the far side of the castle, do not be alarmed by the loud, rasping noises one might chance upon. That would be the crown prince snoring in his sleep, lost somewhere far, far away in a distant dream of adventure and daring exploits. Fortunately for the sake of the castle staff, his room was situated far, far away from the rest of the castle.

Unfortunately, it meant that few guards patrolled this side of the castle.

One could see why that came into play once the shadowy corridors that stretched on and on were taken into consideration. This side of the castle was filled with shady alcoves and hidden corners, the sunlight not quite reaching every nook and cranny. It was dim even in the peak of the afternoon sun, all silent echos and still musty rooms. Rarely anybody came to this side of the castle save for the occasional guest who needed a quick overnight stay.

It was perfect for an intruder, or if one were to be more blunt, an _assassin_ , to hide in.

And it so happened that on this cold morning, a dark figure was drifting through the long corridors. It seemed to examine its surroundings from under a black cloth hood, the dark fabric spilling over to cover its tall frame. It walked with a slight hunch, as if holding something important under its vigil. It was on a very important mission. Surely it was a macabre sight to see nothing but a black outline quickly making its way through a maze of doors and ceiling with a clear goal in mind: the crown prince’s room.

The heavy doors to his chambers eased open slowly, stirring the all-too-still air inside the room in a puff of dust. The heavy silk curtains were still drawn, allowing no sunlight to intrude into the room. There was a bluish tint to the way the shadows fell over the peaceful sight, lending a false sense of serenity to the scene. The crown prince was still fast asleep, a deafening and grating noise the only sound in the room. 

The hooded figure moved swiftly into the room, closing the door behind it as quietly as it possibly could. There was no time to waste. One moment of hesitation and the crown prince would soon be awake. The figure reached deep inside its cloak, pulling out something gleaming and sharp, lifting it into the air in a quiet stroke of victory, as if congratulating itself for not breaking the silence. 

It advanced towards the bed, footsteps light and cautious.

 _Closer_.

There was that horrid sound again.

 _Closer_.

The crown prince was still splayed out across the bed, the sheets in a tangled mess somewhere at the bottom of the huge bed that seemed unnecessary for just one occupant. A pillow had gotten stuck somewhere behind the headboard, and the occasional tuft of black and white hair stuck out from under another. 

_Closer_.

The figure was finally standing over the prince, casting a shadow long and dark shadow across the bedspread, poised to strike. 

The prince stirred.

“Eh-”

The figure closed in to deliver the fatal blow.

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!_ ” 

The prince screamed. 

Several of the guards near the bridge were caught dead in their tracks, listening to the piercing shriek richocheting through the walls with as little concern as they possibly could muster up. A few of them turned to each other, an unamused expression fastened onto their faces. _There goes the crown prince again_. After a moment of solidarity through the madness of the morning, they nodded and went about their rounds. It took a good minute for the screaming to fade and for the world to return to normal and the earth to start spinning again.

“You,” Bokuto said, his voice cracking up after his undignified shriek. “ _You_.”

“Me? Me.” Kuroo folded his arms, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. He had revealed his face (the face of a coward and a prankster, Bokuto decided) from under his hood, almost too pleased with himself.

“You bastard,” Bokuto chuckled, trying to rub the sleep out of his bleary eyes. “You got me good.”

“That’s not the only thing I got you,” Kuroo declared, a pride swelling up in his chest as he tried to reveal what he was holding.

“I can’t see shit, man.” Bokuto hoisted himself off the bed, pulling the curtains open and immediately questioning his life choices when he got a faceful of glaring light.

“Nobody told you to wake up this late.”

“Well, nobody ever wakes me!” Bokuto protested.

“That explains why you never show up for your own court meetings,” Kuroo snickered. “You’re just a lazy bum.”

“Well, you look stupid and the cloak isn’t helping anything.” Bokuto pouted, running out of ways to defend his own late-rising habits.

“Hey, black is in style okay?” Kuroo gave him a twirl.

“Nerd,” Bokuto jabbed.

“Sleepyhead,” Kuroo returned without skipping a beat.

“What brings you here on this fine morning?” Bokuto asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. 

“I had heard it was the crown prince’s birthday,” Kuroo replied with a dramatic bow. “So I brought a gift to satiate his Royal Highness.”

“A gift?” Bokuto turned to him, eyes lit up like a toddler on a holiday morning. Suddenly he was very much awake. 

“Look, before you flame me for forgetting the exact date of your birthday, I have more surprises in store.” Kuroo nodded proudly, maybe to Bokuto, maybe to himself. “This is only the beginning.”

Perhaps Bokuto could forgive Kuroo for disrupting his beauty sleep after all.

“Here.”

He held out the sword to the light, finally affording Bokuto a full view of the white and silver blade, forged only by what Bokuto could assume was the finest swordsmith in all of Nekoma. There were plenty of fine metalsmiths in Kuroo’s kingdom, their metal work and armories known across the land. They had every kind of smith known to mankind: blacksmiths, whitesmiths, goldsmiths, silversmiths, coppersmiths, one could spend a whole hour getting into specifics and they still wouldn’t be done with it. Prized were the beautiful yet practical weapons that Nekoma produced. 

Bokuto had always joked that one of these days Kuroo would owe him some sort of cool weapon, but he hadn’t thought that his dear friend would act on it so soon. 

An ornate silver hilt caught his eyes first, with a familiar detailing engraved at the very end of the sword. It was a horned owl, the coat of arms belonging to none other than the royal family of Fukurodani, one that embellished every corner of the castle and all their banners and flags flying in the streets. _His_ coat of arms.

The scabbard itself was a sight to behold, the white so pristine that it reminded Bokuto of fresh snowfall. He ran his fingers over the intricate carvings emblazoned into the surface, swirling over the smooth white and dipping into the hilt. The grip was encased with a tough white leather, resting perfectly against his calloused hand like it was _made_ for his hold. 

He unsheathed the sword, the sound of the blade ringing through his bones. Now that was a sound he would never forget. The ridged blade glinted with an alluring dark hue, and he found himself leaning in closer to examine the metal from which it was made, very obviously impressed. He had heard rumors of Nekoma forging entire swords out of meteorite steel, but he had refused to believe that such a sword could exist. Yet now he was laying eyes upon one.

He gave it a test swing, and it made him feel all fired up inside, to be holding such a weapon befit of his status, one that matched his vigor and ambition. It was truly a sight to behold. When Bokuto wrapped his fingers around the hilt, it felt like the uniting of new worlds, the rise of a new era, the genesis of the new age. He felt like he had known this sword for all his life, like it was born of the same fire and fury in his bones.

“Damn.”

“What, cat got your tongue?” Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows.

“Just, _damn_.” Bokuto couldn’t even begin to hide how impressed he was.

“I’m glad you don’t find it too shabby,” Kuroo laughed.

“Shabby? On what earth is this shabby?” Bokuto burst out in disbelief.

“Kenma kept giving me shit for the owl,” Kuroo sighed. “Says it looks like a deformed pigeon.”

Bokuto threw back his head, a hearty guffaw erupting from his chest. 

“He never did like that owl,” he said in a mock solemn tone, earning a laugh from his friend.

Then his face grew serious, and he turned to Kuroo.

“Thank you. I really like it. Like really really like it.” 

“Really really really like it?” Kuroo leaned in conspiratorially.

“Really really really really like it,” Bokuto said seriously.

“Well, it’s no problem, bro.”

“Bro,” Bokuto echoed.

“Broooooo.”

As much as Bokuto hated being interrupted while he was off in his dreams fighting imaginary monsters, he was definitely glad to see Kuroo (not that he would ever admit that out loud). Kuroo had always been busy, running about his own kingdom and doing what crown princes do, but his friend had always made time to hop over to Fukurodani once every new moon to annoy the shit out of Bokuto. He didn’t need a reason to do so, some days he would just pop over just to present Bokuto with stories of Kenma’s wit and charm (to which Bokuto was very skeptical about), and other days he would sneak into the castle without announcing his presence, scaring half the guards and the kitchen cooks. 

And he couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for that.

Kuroo wrapped one hand around Bokuto’s shoulder, leading him out of the room, carefully navigating him around all the things he could bump into. 

“Cmon, leave the sword,” Kuroo instructed. “And do your hair, it looks like a mop.”

“But I want to take it everywhere I go! It’s never leaving my side now.”

“Fine, but you’re gonna have to walk on your own. I can’t just push you everywhere,” Kuroo huffed. 

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think?”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“I thought you were my friend.”

Bokuto shuffled a little deeper into his seat, sinking into the hard armrest. He was growing impatient, a restless need to move and run about and jump and dance crawling up inside his chest. He could be outside breathing in the fresh air, or prancing through the town square, or swinging around his new sword. He couldn’t stop thumbing at the hilt attached to his side. Anything but sitting and (shudders) writing.

His voice echoed loud and high through the room. The marble table rooted in the square center of the room held a mountain of papers and letters staring back at him accusingly. He hadn’t meant to let all of it pile up, but when one was out swinging swords about and mingling with their subjects, who had the time for paperwork? He knew he had to get it done eventually, but he never really got around to doing it on his own until someone (Kuroo, in this case) lit a fire under his ass and urged him to just get something done around here. 

“Just look through a few more things and you’re done,” Kuroo assured, waving the quill in Bokuto’s face like he was bribing a disobedient child. 

“It’s my birthday! Why do I have to read this-” Bokuto picked up the nearest piece of parchment and inspected it. “Thing about salting roads?”

“I’m sure salting roads would be interesting once you get into it,” Kuroo tried. “And your birthday’s next week, so you have to work today.”

Bokuto dropped the parchment back onto the table.

“It’s your kingdom!” Kuroo exclaimed.

Bokuto flashed his friend an uninterested look.

“Your parents are gonna kill you if you don’t get this done by the time the owls stop hooting at dusk.”

“They’re already going to kill me anyway!” Bokuto said, feigning an arrow to his chest. “What’s one more to the list?”

“What do they even have against you?” Kuroo asked, whirling around. “You’re like the spoiled only child of the family!”

“Hey! I’m not a spoiled child.” Bokuto folded his arms. “They have a lot against me.”

“Like?”

“Well, they keep saying I need to get married and find a heir, whatever that means.”

“You, get married?” Kuroo snorted. “I can only imagine.”

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Bokuto got up, standing on the chair, making him a full head and a half taller than Kuroo. “They’re giving me a lot of pressure okay?”

A passing attendant happened to peer into the meeting room at the same time, and quickly ducked back out, but not before flashing an exasperated expression in Bokuto’s direction. Well, that was so going to his parents. As if he didn’t need more of their nagging on his schedule.

He could already hear their nagging. _What if someone saw the crown prince of Fukurodani standing on a chair? What would they say then? Why can't you be more like Kuroo? He's the perfect example of what a prince should be like. If you want to be king one day, you should start acting like one. Blah de blah de blah._

“But hey, there’s plenty of time to get married and all that,” Kuroo tried to be reassuring. “There’s plenty of suitable candidates, I’m sure.”

“But I don’t want to get married!” Bokuto cried out, falling back into his seat. “It’s totally unfair.”

“Fine, but you won’t be saying that when you find _the one_ for you.”

“Since when did you get so sappy?” Bokuto raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“Hey! I speak the truth.” Kuroo raised both hands in protest. “It happened to me.”

Everybody knew of Kenma, the quiet and unassuming royal advisor to the crown prince of Nekoma. He was intelligent, and apathetic at times, but always warmed right up to Kuroo himself. It was an unconventional partnership, but when one took into consideration how long they had known each other for, and all the trials and tribulations they had been through, it all made perfect sense. 

“Well, I doubt that it will ever happen for me.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Kuroo patted Bokuto on the back and put the quill back in his hand. “Now, sign.”

“Uuuuuuuughh.” Bokuto slumped forward, his head smacking down on the table. 

“Well, don’t you want to get this over and done with so we can plan a birthday party fit for a prince?” Kuroo leaned in, knowing just exactly what to say.

It was like a cog clicked into place in the spinning gears of Bokuto’s brain, starting to pick up speed. It was like a lightbulb had gone off somewhere above his head.

“YOU’RE RIGHT!” Bokuto exclaimed just a little too loud, his voice carrying across the long room, shooting up into the ceiling. 

Suddenly his brain was doing somersaults. A thousand and one ideas were already running through his head as he started to plan out the entire party within his mental domain. There would be so many people, so many decorations. He would be wearing his finest evening wear, and he would look so good, and the food would be good too, and so would the music. Would he need music? He would definitely need music for a party. It would be something worth dancing to, and maybe he could find some sort of magical fix, and drinks, and lights, and-

Then his face fell.

“But it won’t work.”

“What???” Kuroo frowned. Since when was Bokuto, party animal of the land, dancing prince of the nine realms, mischief maker of Fukurodani, _dejected about parties_?

“They want me to throw a ball.”

“What’s wrong with a ball? You love balls!”

“Not this one,” Bokuto sighed. “It’s a ball to find suitors.”

A flash of understanding struck Kuroo. 

“You really don’t want to get married, huh?”

Bokuto nodded solemnly.

Kuroo thought long and hard. There had to be some remedy for the situation. He did not come all the way from Nekoma to see his friend moping around in a chair for the whole day, not on his watch.

“Why don’t you make it a masquerade ball?”

“Hm?” Bokuto turned to look at him.

“So you don’t have to see anyone’s face or something, and nobody can give you shit for messing around and not picking a suitor.” Kuroo shrugged.

Bokuto perked up. _It was worth a try_.

“You really think it’ll work?” 

“Yeah!” Kuroo lit up too. “You’re the crown prince! Who can deny you a good birthday party?”

Bokuto was back in full force now, the vitality rushing back into his eyes. He leapt back up onto the chair and did a little victory dance at this sudden solution to all his problems. He was going to throw a _masquerade ball_ , and it was going to be the best damn masquerade ball anyone has ever seen. It was going to be a _birthday_ masquerade ball. 

Kuroo sighed in relief at how easy it was to plant an idea into Bokuto’s head and let it unravel and overtake his angsting, pumping the life and enthusiasm back into him. He honestly didn’t fully know if his suggestion would work, he had just plucked it out of the air and threw it at Bokuto hoping it would lure him out of his moody stupor. It took a very special and careful kind of persuasion to get his friend off his ass, but Kuroo had been dealing with the temperamental prince long enough to know what got him down and picked him back up. 

“You are a genius, Kuroo!” 

Kuroo couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, smiling like he had struck gold.

“I’m gonna steal your seal if you don’t start reading all this now.”

“Do it.” Bokuto leaned back.

“No! It’s your kingdom, not mine.” Kuroo shook his head in disappointment.

“You’re much better at this official stuff than me anyway,” Bokuto stated.

It was the truth, Kuroo was much better at navigating the troubling and incredibly complicated waters of court and its paperwork than Bokuto was. There were just so many things to remember, so many conventions and rules and laws and proper etiquette. So many people to entertain, so many questions to answer, so many faces to recall. It was a never-ending stream of duty this and responsibility that, and everybody was always so awfully stuffy and disapproving. 

Some days Bokuto was willing to accept that his friend would make a much better crown prince than he would, but damn if he would ever admit that out loud. Kuroo already had his own kingdom to run anyway.

It wasn’t like Bokuto was actively trying to shirk his responsibilities or anything. Too much thinking made his head swim, and if he tried to read too much he would get bored and grouchy. Everyone who knew Bokuto pitied all of his tutors who always left the library with a migraine and half a stroke after every lesson he attended with them. People dared not call him stupid to his face, for one would only be inviting wrath upon themselves by disrespecting the crown prince, but he could see it in their eyes. People thought he was stupid. That’s how it had always been.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but you owe me a drink,” Bokuto huffed.

“Only because it’s your birthday.” Kuroo shook his head, trying not to let the victory show on his face. 

“And I’m going to throw the best damn ball there ever was,” Bokuto announced to nobody but himself and Kuroo. “I already know what I’m gonna do.”

“You’re scaring me with that smile,” Kuroo said.

Bokuto was grinning ear to ear, his mouth wide open in a comical frame of absolute glee. Kuroo knew that face anywhere. It was the face Bokuto had when they were sneaking past the guards into the armory on a dare. It was the face he had when they were running out of the castle to the taverns before anyone could stop them. It was the face of someone who knew exactly what bad idea he was going to get up to next.

Kuroo sighed.

There was no stopping Bokuto once he had a bad idea.

This was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new update will find you every week.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	2. the fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 0\. the fool  
> | new beginnings, faith in the future, taking a leap into the unknown.
> 
> The Fool is a young man who sets out on an adventure into the unknown, unsure of what the future will bring, but trusting in what the days to come will bring, allowing himself to charge forward even if he is unprepared for what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is time for my extensive knowledge of tarot imagery to shine

The kingdom was in full swing, the sounds of the city rising up to meet the cold air in a flurry of excitement. Streets were quickly filling up with people venturing out of their homes, curious to taste the very telling signs of winter on the night wind for themselves. The lamps were lit and a warm yellow glow flooded street corners and grazed alleyways, offering a homely touch that spread through the entire kingdom.

Bokuto had always loved it when snow was on its way.

The crowd parted to let their prince through. It wasn’t much of an unusual sight to see the crown prince strolling haphazardly down the busy streets and muttering to himself. In fact, one might say it was an unusual sight _not_ to see the prince out and about, cooking up his next batch of shenanigans inside his head. It was both comforting and terrifying to see him smiling to himself like that, mischief streaking across his boyish face and zinging up into his eccentric tufted hair until it stood up.

Comforting because it signified another normal day in Fukurodani. 

Terrifying because nobody knew when and where he would next strike.

For you see, Bokuto was on a mission.

 _Three days._ Three days to throw a ball! What had he gotten himself into?

It was unheard of, but nothing was impossible after all.

He almost wished he hadn’t spoken so soon, but he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Even if it was a challenge nobody had asked him to take on. To be fair, Kuroo was really the one to blame here, for he had given Bokuto the grand idea of a masquerade ball in the first place. Not that he wouldn’t have thrown a ball anyway without the suggestion, but he felt like it would be unjust to place all of the blame on himself. 

Bokuto may not be the most serious member of his own court, but he was plenty serious when it came to throwing parties. He felt a swell of pride in his chest knowing that he was the one behind some of Fukurodani’s grandest bashes. He was the one responsible for some of the most thrilling (and devastating) parties known far and wide across both land and sea; the kind that grandparents would tell stories of from rocking chairs, the kind that drunk men would recall tales of in taverns over a good beer, the kind that sensible adults would shudder over remembering how they let themselves go to a night of fun and pandemonium. 

His last crowning achievement had been a royal regalia by the sea, one to commemorate the long-standing alliance between Nekoma and Fukurodani (a cover that Kuroo and Bokuto gladly flocked to as an excuse to have the time of their lives). It had raged on for three nights consecutively, the entire kingdom alight with music and cheering and chaos. The next morning, Bokuto had found himself tied to a flagpost with absolutely no idea how he got there. Kuroo had found himself marooned in a tree, with a highly amused Kenma laughing at his disheveled state. Half the kingdom was knocked out for a good day. 

The Fukurodani court had agreed to keep a tighter leash on their prince lest he led the kingdom into such a drastic state of disarray again, but little did they know, their prince was already loose and barreling across the kingdom in record time.

Shrugging his coat on tighter, Bokuto hurried his footsteps, breezing over the cobblestones and deeper into the heart of the kingdom. It was taking him every ounce of willpower not to let himself be distracted by every little thing that caught his eye. Which was very hard, given the flourish of color and warmth that lit up the kingdom, a pleasant contrast to the harsh and unrelenting snows that would soon arrive in the land. Usually he would stop by a couple shopfronts, take a peek into the windows and let himself be tempted by the new goods offered up on display. Winter always brought it own special tide of wares to the small businesses parked in the heart of the kingdom.

He turned away from the taverns, where orders were being yelled out for hot sake, luring the occasional wandering traveller looking for a good time.

He refused to even spare a glance at the windows displaying winter lines, boasting feathers and furs fit for a prince, focusing his eyes on the road ahead instead.

He skipped past the bakeries, not letting himself succumb to the delicious smells of steamed mochi dancing out into the streets, threatening to capture all of his attention.

He could not stop today. He could not let himself succumb to such temptations just yet.

Prince Bokuto had a ball to throw.

  * ❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•



Akaashi wasn’t much for the winter season himself, but he could appreciate the breath of life it brought to the kingdom outside his doors. He was much more content to stay in the familiar warmth his shop offered in these cold times, to watch the world go by outside while he enjoyed the quiet solitude of the shop.

When he came to Fukurodani to set up shop, he had a fair share of customers coming in every day. The people of Fukurodani were accepting of magic, even encouraging the presence of magic amongst their midst. The kingdom wasn’t entirely reliant on magic unlike some others that Akaashi had seen, but magic was still in relatively high demand here. People often came to him looking for spells and potions and charms, minor things that they could use a little magical boost of help with. Locals would wander in, captivated by the curiosities on the shelves, and many of them would leave with magical items that they found interesting. Sometimes buyers from the richer side of town would come in with a more _sensitive_ request, one that paid more coin and allowed him to exhibit the full force of his abilities. He was steadily making a name for himself in the kingdom despite the unusual geographic location of his shop.

It was buried in between the entrances to two alleyways, bordered by a criss-crossing junction of little roads. There was a fair share of traffic coming through, but with the shop’s unassuming demeanor and dim appearance, it was hard to notice anything special about it unless one were to peer in and see all the strange items on display in the window. 

But business had become scarce in the last few days, his usual brand of patrons turning tail, enticed by the colorful sights and wares that other shops had to offer during the cold season. People simply had no need for his type of magic when they were busy shopping for firewood and necessities for the coming winter. 

As much as Akaashi enjoyed the idea of not having to entertain the (more than) occasional rampant customer poking around his wares and throwing impossible demands at him, he still very much liked to be able to pay off the rent and eat. 

But today, he would close one eye and simply allow himself to relax. 

He would think about adjusting his services to a more practical nature the next day.

Akaashi made a mental checklist of all the things he could get done by midnight. 

He needed to inventory the new items that had accumulated in a growing pile in one corner of the shop. He had been putting it off because of a particular artifact that was being uncooperative. It was a book that spit out rhymes and riddles, designed to confuse and befuddle any robbers who dared trespass into one’s house. It sat at the very top of the pile, glaring at Akaashi from afar. He had never been one for the literary magics, having only taken a small course on it once when he felt particularly bored in a passing kingdom. He was a mage, not a librarian. Unfortunately, that did not give him any excuses to ignore the talking book any longer. Maybe he would find a random shelf to stuff it onto at the back, and if any customer stumbled upon it, that was their problem.

Sighing, he emerged from behind the counter, prepared to resign himself to a long night.

 _Ding_.

Someone walked, no, _stumbled_ in through the doors. 

Akaashi turned around, fixing as neutral an expression as he could onto his face, unsure whether he should be glad that he could finally make a sale that day, or exasperated that his quiet night was disturbed.

For a moment the stranger’s face remained frozen in a comical expression, and Akaashi briefly wondered if he had stumbled into the wrong shop, but then his eyes fell upon Akaashi.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the man’s face lit up with a grin. “You’re the mage, right?”

Akaashi highly doubted that he was the only mage in the entire kingdom, but he did not bat an eye at the stranger’s directness.

“Yes, I am a mage.”

“Great! I spent so long walking around trying to find your shop,” the man exclaimed, his arms rising in a dramatic series of gestures. “It’s so hard to find!”

 _That is kind of the point_ , Akaashi resisted saying, noting that the man’s words were more an exclamation than criticism. He found himself looking this curious new stranger up and down, and then doubling back to look again. 

The stranger’s hair stuck straight up into two white and black tufts, made stiffer from the crisp air outside. It made him look exactly like the white horned owl that sat plastered on every banner that flew from the lamps outside. Yet somehow it suited his boyish face, flushed from what Akaashi presumed was from the “walking around” trying to find his shop. His charming grin lent a youthful appearance to his demeanor, but his height suggested otherwise. Even when slouching over with both hands shoved into his pockets, the stranger was easily as tall as Akaashi himself. 

His coat was encased in a ring of white feathers and gold trim, typical of the richer tastes of the neighborhoods situated up near the mountains. It fell all the way to his knees, wrapping around his broad shoulders and extending like wings every time he raised his arms, furthering the owl-like silhouette.

 _Perfect_ , Akaashi thought. Maybe this sale could be bigger than he had expected.

“Ah...” the stranger faltered as Akaashi’s piercing gaze swept over him, his eyes shooting open wider than Akaashi thought possible.

“What are you here for?” _Better to cut to the chase._

“Ball!” he blurted out, earning a strange look from the mage. “I mean, I’m here for your help. To throw a ball.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

Of all the things he could do for the man, he wanted Akaashi to help him...throw a ball?

“Okay,” Akaashi said simply. He would entertain this stranger’s unusual request. “What kind of ball?”

“A masquerade ball,” the stranger said, still staring at Akaashi as if in a trance.

“How big?”

“Big! Like castle-level big!” the stranger continued. 

“It’s going to be in the castle?” Akaashi’s interest was slightly piqued. This man must be richer than he thought. 

“Yeah! Everyone will be there.”

“Do you know the royal family?” Akaashi asked.

The stranger blinked twice, and then amusement crept into his face.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“No.”

“That’s okay, you can call me Bokuto,” Bokuto (apparently) said, extending a hand, the smile never leaving his face. 

“Sure, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied. “What will you need my help for?”

“I just need some magic to make the place cooler! More flashy, more... _magical_ ,” Bokuto decided. “I have the other details covered. Well, sort of. It’s going to be a space-themed thing.”

“...Cooler?” Akaashi was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that Bokuto came looking for his shop just to splurge on some decorative magic. _Well, this was unconventional_.

“Yes,” Bokuto said decidedly. “I’ve heard of your magic.”

 _Ah_ , Akaashi thought. His magic. His origins weren’t completely unknown in Fukurodani it seems. Word of mouth seems to get around quickly enough that a celestial mage had taken root here in the kingdom, to open a curiosity shop of all things. He shouldn’t be surprised to know that people actually knew about it.

“So you’re looking for decorations,” Akaashi concluded.

“When you put it that way it sounds less cool.” Bokuto pouted like a dejected child.

Akaashi tried not to accept the fact that this stranger was unexpectedly cute.

“I’m just making sure, Bokuto-san.”

“I don’t know, are you sure your magic can help me with a party?”

Akaashi blanked. Did this total stranger just question his abilities?

“After looking at how stiff you are, maybe I should take my business somewhere else?” Bokuto teased, moving a few steps forward and leaning one elbow on the counter, still smiling that infuriatingly charming smile.

 _Stiff?_

“I’m not stiff,” Akaashi said immediately, trying not to let any offence show on his face. “And you’re free to go anywhere else you want, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey! I’m just joking, how could you say that?” Bokuto’s hair seemed to deflate.

“And I was not,” Akaashi deadpanned. 

“I seriously need your help,” Bokuto almost pleaded. “I have three days to throw this ball.”

“Three days,” Akaashi echoed, trying to convince himself wholeheartedly that he did _not_ find this stranger’s whining adorable.

“Yes, so you can see my problem here.” Bokuto drooped. “How about this, I’ll pay you in gold.”

Akaashi’s ears perked up at this new offer. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Bokuto said, perking right back up when he saw slight interest flicker across the mage’s face. “Anything you want.”

“Anything…” Akaashi was finding it very hard to turn down this offer, and the overexcited stranger. “And all I have to do is help you decorate?”

“Yes,” Bokuto repeated, more insistently this time. “I promise it won’t be something you can’t do.”

“Hm.” People did not usually worry about what the mage could or couldn’t do. He had to admit it was a refreshing change of pace from the over-demanding customers he was so used to.

“Will you do it?” Bokuto asked quietly, as if holding his breath, his arms held up in quiet anticipation. 

_Well, how could Akaashi refuse a face like that? At least he was cute_.

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

“AW YEAH!” Bokuto yelled, pumping his fist in the air and dancing around on the spot. 

Akaashi should seriously be worried for the safety of his wares.

“Oh,” Bokuto stopped. 

_What now?_

“I don’t know your name yet,” Bokuto said, his face knotting together as if he had just forgotten something very important.

Akaashi blinked.

“Akaashi.”

“No given name?” 

“I do not think we’re on a given name basis yet, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s smile widened a little at the subtle “yet” Akaashi had added to the end of his sentence. He was swirling with glee at the fact that the mage had just accepted his offer. This was going to be the best masquerade ball history had ever seen. He just knew it deep down in his bones. He was going to throw a hell of a party, and his parents will either be too impressed by his vigor or too horrified at the outcome to even be mad about him putting off his search for a suitor.

“Stay here, I’m going to go get my logbook,” Akaashi instructed. He didn’t know if he could trust Bokuto to stay still, even if it was just for a second as he darted behind the counter, rifling through the drawers trying to find the familiar red book.

“Okay!”

It took him a while, but when he fetched the quill and ink, he emerged from under the counter to see Bokuto staring challengingly at the pile of uncatalogued items. 

“Be careful, Bokuto-san.”

“What does this do?” Bokuto asked, poking at the book.

He jumped back when it started to open, the pages vibrating and chattering. The sound of a morose chanting became louder and louder until it was borderline unbearable. It stole through the air and sent an ugly wave of discomfort through the shop. Bokuto clapped both hands over his ears, the growing rumbling of pain shooting straight into his nerves.

Akaashi quickly leapt out from behind the counter, dashing cleanly over to the pile and slamming his hand in one swift motion down onto the flying pages. He locked the book shut with a quickly uttered incantation, a practised movement that Akaashi was all too familiar with from his own tussles with the magical book. 

The chanting stopped.

The room returned to silence.

“You saved me,” Bokuto whispered. _You’re amazing_ , he wanted to say.

Akaashi looked back at him with a slight frown.

“I told you to stay there, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto could not stop staring. The soft light from the floating lamps positioned by the door reflected a quiet intensity in those gunmetal blue eyes that he had not quite noticed before. There was a quiet disapproval simmering in his face, but Bokuto was only more attracted by the downward arch of the mage’s brows and the pursing of his lips. His face was all clean lines and smooth skin, almost like a living painting, a very interesting aura of magic radiating off his entire being. It was like Bokuto was finally seeing him for the first time, and it was like nothing he had ever seen before. His ability of coherent speech had long abandoned him and ran away in the wind, leaving him only to stare, unblinking, at the mage. 

“Are you alright, Bokuto-san?”

“Yes, ah, I’m fine,” Bokuto managed, tripping over his words.

“Good.” The mage dusted off his hands, a quiet sigh ghosting his lip. “What time should I come by the castle then?”

“The castle?” Bokuto shook out of his trance. “Right! The castle. Tomorrow at daybreak would be good.”

Akaashi nodded, penning the details into his logbook. He couldn’t say he was looking forward to seeing what was required of his services, but he couldn’t deny the fact that getting to spend more time with Bokuto was alluring. There was just something about the man that stirred his interest, even though he couldn’t quite name just what. 

“So does it do that for everyone, or does it just hate me?” Bokuto asked.

It took Akaashi a moment to realize that he was talking about the book.

“I would love to say it hates everyone, myself included, but unfortunately it only works on robbers or intruders,” Akaashi said, a hint of amusement sneaking into his voice.

Bokuto grinned again, a mischievous idea brewing inside his head.

“I’ll take it,” he offered, setting down a few silvers on the counter, more than what Akaashi was expecting for the damned book. He wouldn’t put it past himself to have given the book to the first stranger to have offered to take it off his hands.

He must’ve looked surprised, for Bokuto was waving his hand in Akaashi’s face, confusion etched across his face.

“Is it not for sale?”

“No! It is. For sale. Very for sale,” Akaashi hurriedly corrected. “Please, just take it. It’s on the house.”

“Really?” Bokuto’s hair shot back up, making him look even more excited, if that was possible. 

“Yes.” Akaashi did not know why he just said that. _Akaashi Keiji, offering a stranger a magical item for free? The heavens were laughing at him from above_. He did not even know a single thing about Bokuto, except that he was very excitable and very good-looking. He didn’t know why he had accepted the job offer in the first place. Parties were not a mage’s specialty, and he still did not quite understand what Bokuto wanted him for.

Still, he could not quite refuse the offer.

“Thank you, Akaashi.” Bokuto’s smile sent a flutter through Akaashi’s heart, which he willfully pushed deep down into the crevasses of his soul. It would come back to haunt him later in his sleep.

“It is my job.”

“See you tomorrow at the castle,” Bokuto called out over his shoulder as he wrestled the book under his grasp, wedging it between his arm and his coat, careful not to trigger another volatile outburst. He threw a happy wave in Akaashi’s direction, his smile not faltering one bit even as he stepped out into the cold air. 

“See you, Bokuto-san.”

One thing was for certain.

_What had Akaashi gotten himself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new update will find you every week.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	3. the magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i. the magician  
> | manifestation, power, resourcefulness
> 
> The Magician stands with one arm outstretched towards the universe, and the other pointing down to the earth. He is the conduit that converts energy into matter, willing dreams into existence and brimming with worldly knowledge. He is powerful and knowledgeable, planting the seeds of potential and transforming visions and goals into reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I am well aware that there are different athame traditions across different schools of witchcraft and ritual-practicising cultures, but my personal thought would be Akaashi would use a moonstone ceremonial blade to cast his circles because he was first taught how to using a dagger a long, long time ago. Personally I have never used a blade to cast my own circles, but I decided to blur the lines between the usual practices of magi and witches when it comes to Akaashi’s magic in this story.

“I’m telling you, Kuroo! He was the prettiest person I’ve ever seen!”

“That’s so gay, Bo.”

“You’re one to talk,” Bokuto retorted.

The sun was slowly rising higher, swirling rich goldens and reds into the deep blue of the receding night. Bokuto had gotten up extra early today, and he was glad to be able to finally witness a sunrise again. It’s been a while since he had been an early riser. He loved mornings, and loved the quiet peace of the kingdom before the sun rose, and loved the morning air and the morning sounds. He just didn’t particularly fancy leaving his extremely comfortable bed when he actually needed to.

On this particular morning, Kuroo had followed Bokuto out onto one of the lower balconies of the castle, convinced that he had just seen a ghost. He had been in near disbelief to see a very awake Bokuto leaning over the edge, staring out onto the kingdom and wondering when Akaashi was going to show up. 

“You just met him! You barely even talked,” Kuroo pointed out.

Kuroo on the other hand, had always been a morning person. He was one of those crazy fuckers who were always up and at it at the crack of dawn. Bokuto felt sorry for Kenma, who much preferred to stay indoors in bed than get startled awake in the wee mornings by a noisy prince. 

“Yeah, and I already like him!” Bokuto exclaimed excitedly. 

“Is this another one of your crushes?” 

“Another? No, no, you’re exaggerating now!” 

Kuroo shot him a pointed look.

“Fine, fine.” Bokuto put out his hands in front of him. “But I’m serious this time.”

“Serious? We’ll see about that,” Kuroo snorted.

Bokuto punched him in the shoulder lightly.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the sun ascend higher and higher every second until the sky was lightening. Fukurodani’s sunrises were truly a breath-taking sight, even Kuroo had to admit that. It had been a while since he had watched the rising sun with Bokuto. Through all the trials and tribulations of the royal court, both of them had been too busy to even do something like that. It was nice spending time in the presence of each other, even if they weren’t talking. So when the time came, he felt reluctant to break the silence.

“Okay, I’m off. Have fun indulging your new crush.” Kuroo offered a wave, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He was off to receive Kenma, who had royal matters back in Nekoma to attend to before he could travel to Fukurodani to find Kuroo and attend Bokuto’s ball. His ship was docking today, and Kuroo wanted to be the first person to see him from the land. 

“Ugh, just go.” Bokuto loved his best friend, but he could be so annoying sometimes.

And with that, Kuroo was gone, leaving Bokuto standing on the balcony alone.

He sighed, returning his waiting gaze to the kingdom slowly waking up.

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto nearly jumped out of his skin.

“AKAASHI!”

He tried to tackle Akaashi in a flying jump, startling the mage into sidestepping this sudden burst of acknowledgement, and sending Bokuto sprawling into a heap on the floor. But he picked himself up immediately, his eyes shining in the dim sunlight.

“How did you get up here?” Bokuto gave him a confused, but very excited look.

“I have my ways.” Akaashi shrugged.

“Of course, you’re a mage!” Bokuto replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He was very aware that he was staring at Akaashi, but he just couldn’t help it. The mage was standing in a set of luxurious black robes with a curiously shimmery detail around the collar and the waist, flowing in long purple lines down the side of the thick but billowy fabric. The robes seemed to float around him like some invisible force every time he moved. It certainly gave the mage a very interesting presence, highlighting the blue of his eyes and the black of his hair. Bokuto thought he looked even prettier in the light of the rising sun. 

“Now, what am I here to do, Bokuto-san?”

“Come on, follow me! I’ll give you the tour of your life,” Bokuto declared, beckoning Akaashi to follow him.

Akaashi obliged, and together they walked up a large spiralling staircase, one that led to all the rooms in this side of the castle. He fell into a steady rhythm, walking beside Bokuto while he chattered animatedly about the castle’s architecture and room plans. 

Akaashi had never been inside the castle before. He hadn’t really had a chance to, and plus he didn’t really see the point of it. He was never much associated with the likes of the monarchies in the kingdoms he set up shop in. He found it too troublesome to meddle in the politics of a kingdom. Never know what kind of pot one was stirring when they decided to step in and expose themselves to the royal court. Of course it was not to say that Akaashi was unfamiliar with the courtly conventions of his time. He had his own experience working with nobility who hired him for all sorts of odd jobs.

“Bokuto-san, are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” Akaashi asked as they walked down another long corridor. He had noted all the odd looks thrown in their direction from the occasional passing chamberlain or attendant. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that Bokuto even had the authority to even be here, much less himself.

“Of course, we’ll be there in a second,” Bokuto grinned, seemingly unfazed by the mage’s reservations.

Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat. _There it was again._

They walked for a little while more before reaching a set of double doors, taller than two Bokutos and gilded like no tomorrow. They were bordered on both sides by twin pillars, crafted out of some sort of heavy stone that matched the doors themselves. This had to lead somewhere important, Akaashi concluded briefly.

“And here, we have the ballroom!” Bokuto announced, throwing open the double doors like it was nothing. “Well, one of them.”

Akaashi stepped foot onto the gold thread carpet, interwoven with embroidered linework in all manners of intricate. A whole row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the sprawling mountainous regions of Fukurodani sat on his immediate right, the bare sunlight filtering through the polished glass. The walls were dripping with black and white velvet panelling, punctuated by the occasional royal coat of arms and lighting fixtures that spilled warm yellow light into the room. The ballroom was quiet and serene, as if lying in wait for the next grand occasion to burst into life, the air laced with silent anticipation. He had to admit the place was grander than what he had imagined, but it was a given when it came to the castle and the lengths nobility would go to.

“Okay! I was thinking of bringing in a sort of starry night theme,” Bokuto continued, throwing his arms up as he gestured in all directions. “Can you fill the entire ceiling with stars?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. I can try.”

Bokuto whirled around with a bright look in his eyes, as if Akaashi had just told him that he was a star. _Not that Akaashi wouldn’t call Bokuto a star, but that was a whole other story he didn’t want to think about just yet_. His excitement was refreshing, it’s a been a long while since anybody had been this impressed with Akaashi’s magic really.

“Great! We can start with that.”

“Alright.”

Akaashi unfurled a long strip of leather-bound cloth and carefully lifted a ceremonial dagger from it. The double-edged moonstone blade was encased in an obsidian hilt so polished that it reflected its surroundings with a shocking clarity. Sigils had been carved into the handle in sweeping curls and sharp lines, lighting up with a brilliant white the moment Akaashi touched the dagger. Bokuto watched entranced as Akaashi wrapped his long, slender fingers around the handle, preparing to sweep the blade through the still air of the ballroom. 

But before he could begin casting a circle, the doors burst open and in stepped a harried-looking woman in white. She looked ready to drag Bokuto’s ass all the way to hell, and Akaashi found himself thinking that finally someone was about to tell them off and kick them out of the castle.

“Yukippe, what are you doing here?” Bokuto did not look too pleased at this disruption. 

“Your Royal Highness, your parents are expecting an answer.”

Akaashi nearly choked.

“Bah! Just tell them I’m going ahead with the ball.” Bokuto tried to shoo the attendant away. “I don’t have to worry about that now.”

“You have to make a decision soon, you cannot keep puting it off,” the attendant admonished. She was all too used to Bokuto’s dodging of the matter. It was sooner or later that he would have to answer to the king and queen themselves.

“I’ll worry about it when the time comes!” Bokuto huffed.

He did _not_ need to be reminded of his parents’ pressing demand for him to find a suitor when he was content with staring at a very pretty Akaashi right in front him. He had been putting it off for as long as he could, and would still continue to do so as long as he was living and breathing and kicking on this land.

“The kingdom is waiting for-”

Before the attendant could finish her sentence, Bokuto quickly nudged her out the doors and promptly shut them, turning to Akaashi with a sigh of relief.

“There! With that out of the way, we can continue decorating.”

“You’re the crown prince.”

Akaashi’s face contorted through a multitude of comedically confused expressions, trying to come to terms with the fact that Bokuto, his overexcited and infuriatingly charming client, was the crown prince of Fukurodani. The one and only Bokuto. Loud Bokuto. Dramatic Bokuto. Whiney Bokuto. The same Bokuto who came into his shop and poked around his wares with as much caution as the North Wind. _That_ Bokuto was the prince. 

“Do I not look like one?” Bokuto’s voice dropped into a familiar teasing, offering a small spin-around as he looked directly at a very baffled Akaashi. 

“No, I am just surprised.”

Suddenly, everything was starting to fall into place.

The feathered coat. The masquerade ball. The familiarity with the castle.

And here Akaashi thought Bokuto was simply being precocious by asking if he didn’t know who he is. 

“I shall address you using your royal title from now on.” Akaashi offered a quick but deep bow. “I apologize for any disrespect I have caused.”

“No, no! You can still call me Bokuto,” Bokuto hurried, waving his arms about. 

Akaashi looked at him, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“I like it when you call me Bokuto-san,” Bokuto said, a little quieter this time, trying to avert his eyes away from Akaashi’s own. 

_Is he...blushing_? Akaashi watched as Bokuto started heating up under his gaze. 

“Okay, Bokuto-san, if that’s what you like,” he responded, trying to ignore the steadily increasing thrumming of his own heart. Why did a prince of all people make him feel this way? Didn’t his heart know how to take a hint that he didn’t want to be involved in royal politics?

“Shall we continue?” Bokuto asked, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Yes, _Bokuto-san_.”

Bokuto tried not to squirm at the way Akaashi’s voice formed over the vowels of his name. _Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy SHIT_ . He couldn’t believe he just admitted, out loud, to Akaashi himself that he _liked_ it when he called him by his name. One of these days he was going to have to slap himself from saying things like that out loud.

Akaashi returned to the center of the ballroom, grounding himself to the feel of the room once again. With one deft swipe of the blade, a hum of bright white energy flowed rapidly through his being and through the dagger, falling into a perfect circle around him. It was a learned motion, one he was very familiar with. You didn’t mess around with the nature of the cosmos if you didn’t know how to protect yourself. The hum streamed out into a deeper rumbling and a higher ringing coexisting in waves that spread throughout the ballroom, but mainly within the circle as Akaashi began to gather energy. 

Bokuto stood a slight distance away, his eyes transfixed on the mage at work. He had learnt his lesson after the last time, and knew to stay put when the mage had told him to. Besides, he was content to stand at one side and watch Akaashi work his magic. It was truly a magnificent sight, and Bokuto had never felt or seen anything like this before. The pure power slowly growing from the circle was making him excited, like a renewed energy that charged through his veins and sent his head spinning with an intensity like he had never felt before.

Then Akaashi pulled his arms up over his head in a swift movement, sending the ball of light that collected between his palms shooting up and onto the ceiling. The shimmery liquid light danced around the crystal chandelier, leaving bits of stardust spinning in place in a stunning trail as the light started to seep through the room. It was already beautiful, and Bokuto found his jaw falling all the way to the floor as he tried to keep up with the moving stars.

“It’ll start to glow more over the next few nights when the stars are out in the sky,” Akaashi explained, his voice softer than usual as he straightened up to maintain his form. “I’m simply setting a base for which the celestial energy can settle.”

Bokuto nodded, barely absorbing his words as he continued to stare and stare and stare.

When the entire ceiling was coated with stars, Akaashi retracted his hands and turned to Bokuto, careful not to disrupt the circle just yet.

“Is this satisfactory, Bokuto-san?”

“Yes, yes, very satisfactory,” Bokuto breathed out. “This is _amazing_.”

Akaashi blinked. He had not expected Bokuto to be this impressed by his magic, but from the look of his wide eyes and his open jaw, maybe he would allow himself this little bit of satisfaction that his magic had made Bokuto so amazed. 

“What do you want to do next?” 

Bokuto smiled. He had plenty of ideas.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“You can leave and do better things with your time instead of watching me, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi didn’t really want Bokuto to leave, but it was getting hard to focus when the prince was still staring so intently at him.

“But I want to watch you, Akaashi.”

“Why?” Akaashi did not turn to face Bokuto as he continued his magical process.

“Because you’re pretty, Akaashi.”

The light streaming from his hands misfired for a second, sending a rogue blast of light bouncing off the walls and narrowly missing the circle. He had to take a good, deep, calming inhale of air just to clear his head and make sure that he had not just heard wrong.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, quite unsure of how to respond. He could very much feel Bokuto still staring at him, eyes trailing up and down his entire figure as he turned his back on the prince. He had been at it for hours, but Bokuto had never once moved from his perch, nor taken his eyes off of Akaashi, and it was doing things to Akaashi’s heart that he would never admit.

“May I ask what this ball is for, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi spit out the first question he could think of, anything to take his mind off the heat slowly crawling into his face.

“Oh! It’s going to be my birthday in two days.”

Akaashi’s heart nearly departed his body for the second time that day.

“In fact, you should come to the ball!” Bokuto exclaimed, jumping up. “It’ll be great fun.”

Akaashi wrestled with the emotions quickly leaking onto his face. How did the prince get him so worked up? Now he was inviting him to his birthday party? Since when were they this close? Had Bokuto already forgotten that they had met a day ago? What in the natural order of the universe was happening?

“Okay,” Akaashi said simply.

“YES!” Bokuto jumped up onto the chair this time. Then he coughed, and sat back down. “I mean, yes.”

Akaashi felt slightly amused.

“I’ll introduce you to all my friends,” Bokuto declared. “It’ll be a good night.”

“If you insist, Bokuto-san.”

“Have you been here in Fukurodani long?” Bokuto asked.

The sudden question stunned Akaashi, but he wasn’t surprised. Of course Bokuto would be curious about his work. 

“You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with it, but I just want to get to know you better,” Bokuto quickly added. Kuroo’s voice was echoing through his head, telling him that he had only known Akaashi for a day. He didn’t want to deal with the fact that he was quickly falling for the pretty mage, even though he didn’t know a single thing about him.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Akaashi said. “I’ve only been in Fukurodani for a month.”

“A month? That’s not very long,” Bokuto replied. 

“Yes.”

“Why did you come here?” 

“I wanted a change of pace.”

“Do you move around a lot?”

“Yes.” Bokuto was asking a lot of questions, but somehow Akaashi didn’t seem to mind.

“Ooh, how many kingdoms have you been to? Have you seen the seas?” Bokuto perked up. With Fukurodani being a mountain kingdom, Bokuto had never seen the sea before, but he had made it a life goal to journey to the ocean one day.

“I’ve lost count,” Akaashi answered truthfully. “And yes, I have seen the sea.”

“That’s amazing,” Bokuto remarked. “I want to see the sea too. We should go to the sea one day.”

Akaashi was truly baffled. Bokuto did not even know him and he was already making plans to visit another place with him. Not that he would refuse.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Akaashi shifted from one wall to the next, still remaining within his circle as he watched Bokuto out of the corner of his eye. He still didn’t quite understand the prince, but he was already warming up to Bokuto quicker than he ever had with anyone else before. There was something so comfortable in the way that Bokuto spoke with him, even though they were a prince and a mage. They were worlds apart, but it was like Bokuto knew how to bridge the gap and make Akaashi feel at home in their conversations. He didn’t understand it at all.

Bokuto wasn’t thinking about the fact that they were a prince and a mage. He was fully focused on Akaashi and Akaashi alone. The mage was pretty sure, but it was more than just a pretty face. Akaashi didn’t look at him with a condescending or resigned look that he was all too familiar with. Akaashi had always entertained his questions, no matter how stupid they might seem. Even with the reservation obvious in his face, Bokuto could tell that he was slowly warming up to him, and it was making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He wanted to get to know Akaashi more, and this was his chance. 

A new day was dawning outside over Fukurodani.

“So you’ll really come to my party?” 

“Yes. Yes I will, Bokuto-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new update will find you every week.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	4. the high priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ii. the high priestess  
> | duality, mystery, hidden self
> 
> The High Priestess wears a mask, half of it covering their face, signifying that the sacred knowledge of the known and unknown is both explicit and not implicit, and will only be revealed when their one is ready to look beyond the material realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my growing love of semicolons. more tarot imagery is always lovely, and love a little good Identity Shenanigans™ in my works. I'm always fascinated with the concept of illusion magic and using it for artistic purposes, so have a good one y'all.

“You’ve outdone yourself, bro.”

The entire expanse of black ceiling was dripping with a blanket of iridescence that morphed into beautiful renditions of constellations as far as the eye could see, complete with elaborate chandelier arrangements that involved thousands of tiny diamonds and fountains of gold light. It was reminiscent of the starry night skies that were made especially prominent during Fukurodani’s winters, with spontaneous bursts of light that twirled through the cool air and dipped lower onto the dance floor to tell tales of the sprawling star fields and asteroid belts across the galaxy. 

The alluring energy weaved through the walls and the gorgeously thick blue carpeting, plunging the entire ballroom into an incredibly vivid scene of the Milky Way, the pinwheel of stars extending past where the walls should have been and wrapping the whole room in an unrivalled cosmic brilliance. 

The ballroom was slowly filling up with people from all over — from kingdoms far and near, from lands familiar and foreign, from mountains and rivers and hills and all the way across the sea. Every single one of his guests walked in ogling the spectacular sight that beheld their very eyes, stealing their breath away and capturing their attention like never before. It was like stepping into the vastness of space itself, and near impossible to make certain of where the life-like illusions began or ended. The black and white panelling was the perfect base for the magic to work its way into the hearts of everyone present. 

It was a masterpiece like never before.

Fukurodani never disappointed when it came to their royal balls after all.

Bokuto swore that if he looked around long enough, he just might spy a ring of planets amist the swirl of stars and gas and light, but he was already so swept up in the sheer intensity of the thousands of stars surrounding him. Even he wasn’t exempt from the magnificence of the magical scene, despite having been present when a certain pretty raven-haired mage had carefully indulged his every request no matter how ridiculous or extravagant. Akaashi had been extremely patient with his every whim, and had simply tucked away the occasional half-smile or the slight widening of his eyes when the prince had thrown out the occasional less-than-conventional idea. 

Speaking of which, he had no idea where Akaashi was, even after having scanned the throngs of guests flooding in through the doors for almost an hour now. The growing of impatience wiggled under his skin as he craned his neck to search for the familiar silhouette of one mage and his robes. 

“Looking for your new crush?” Kuroo interrupted his singular focus, flashing Bokuto the most infuriatingly knowing grin. Sometimes he found it annoying how well Kuroo knew him. He always knew how to see right through Bokuto when he found himself smitten.

Bokuto opened his mouth to retort, but then another familiar figure drew into view behind Kuroo. 

“Kenma!” 

Not even the most powerful of magic could help Kenma escape from the crushing hug that Bokuto launched into when he spotted his favorite royal advisor. The flash of surprise across Kenma’s face was a given, but he made no move to try and inch his way out of Bokuto’s overeager embrace, instead choosing to give Kuroo a pointed look when he laughed from the side. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Bokuto exclaimed.

The white and gold cat mask that Kenma was sporting was an artful mirror of the black and silver one Kuroo had on his stupid face. As usual, it was all clean detailing and sleek lines when it came to Nekoma’s style, the masks a perfect tribute to the black cat that graced their coat of arms. They were both clad in thick fur cloaks to withstand the cold of the impending winter, the velvet a decadent red. Nekoma’s winters were never as harsh, the kingdom built over lush plains and greenery instead of the stark mountains and valleys that Fukurodani called home. 

“It’s been long,” Kenma murmured in agreement, ignoring the prince’s very loud declaration of his name. He could’ve sworn the whole point of masquerade masks were to conceal one’s identity, but then again Bokuto was not really one for strict traditions. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Was it a long journey from Nekoma?”

“With this one around,” Kenma nodded in Kuroo’s direction. “Any journey is a long journey.”

“Hey!” Kuroo feigned hurt, a hand shooting up to his heart. 

“What’s this about a crush?” Kenma dared to ask.

“Bokuto has been eyeing a mage with the prettiest blue eyes,” Kuroo snickered, much to Bokuto’s exasperation. “His words, not mine.”

Kenma’s face was remarkably still behind his mask, but even Bokuto could see the amusement in his eyes.

“He does have pretty blue eyes! It’s not my fault that his eyes are so pretty,” Bokuto cried out, drawing a few curious looks from the people around him. He lowered his voice down to a whisper. “Have you guys seen him yet?”

“Unfortunately not, lover boy.” Kuroo put a hand over Kenma’s shoulder, leading him away from the pouting prince. “Kenma has requested a dance with yours truly.”

“I have?” Kenma asked, allowing himself to be led away nevertheless.

“Happy Birthday, Bo.” Kuroo had the nerve to turn around and wave gleefully. 

“Just go and dance, loser.” 

The pair disappeared into the briefly parting crowd, leaving Bokuto to his search once again. 

Life was starting to explode around the ballroom, and Bokuto found himself caught up in the various festivities happening around him. Music and dance and drinking and cheering rang through the cavernous space, gasps of awe rising up every time a star descended from the ceiling. He swept his eyes over the crowd once again, and found himself picking out more familiar figures around the room. It was hard to tell who was who when it came down to the masks, but Bokuto prided himself on being able to recognize his own friends.

Over on the far side of the room where the bar stood, Bokuto could pick out one crown prince of Seijoh talking to a certain captain of the royal guard. Oikawa had already helped himself to the stunning variety of refreshments, it seemed. Even through all his animated gestures, the prince took great care not to let the sleek glass in his hand tip over, a shining bubbly liquid sloshing slightly every time he moved, an impressive feat considering that his other hand was wrapped tightly around his captain’s waist. 

Bokuto had to make sure he was seeing right. Iwaizumi with his hair slicked back? The sun must be rising from the west. He could spy the captain’s scowl from all the way from across the ballroom, his shoulders tensing up every time Oikawa brushed his hand up his back teasingly. Even in a deep blue vest and tight trousers, Iwaizumi stood ever so stiffly, as if he was about to combust at any second. He tried to turn away from Oikawa, but nobody could escape the prince’s ever-present lazy smile, not even Iwaizumi himself. 

Bokuto chuckled. Iwaizumi was never known for his ability to let loose, after all. He had no idea when the two had finally gotten together, but he was happy for them to say the least. They were wearing matching masks, white with pale green accents. Must be Oikawa’s choice, and a stylish one at that. 

Bokuto wondered what kind of mask Akaashi would be wearing. Would they be matching? Would Akaashi like his mask? How would Akaashi look in a mask? There were too many possibilities and not enough Akaashi in his night. 

His eyes roved over to the dance floor, where the soaring harmonies of harps regaled the dance floor with a light and easy tune. The night was only just beginning as couples started flocking to the center of the room, swaying and spinning to the harmony of ethereal notes. 

_Ah_ , _here we go again_ , Bokuto mused. He watched as Daichi and Suga wrangled the rest of their court off the dance floor before everyone could shoot off through the crowd, urgent whispers as they ordered their charges to behave. Karasuno had always brought the life to the party, the mischief to the chaos, the antics to the night. The moment someone started screaming or something was set ablaze, Bokuto could always count on it to be a member of Karasuno’s royal court.

Right now, he could see Hinata already sneaking off the long way around, dragging Kageyama with him, clearly making a beeline for the banquet laid out to the right of the room. That little knight was going to be the death of their young king one day. They were set on a collision path straight into Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who had already separated from the group for some quiet time by the food. 

Bokuto laughed to himself. The night was definitely going to be long. 

He could pick out a few other kingdoms from the styling of their clothes alone. Everyone was attired in posh silks and tailored dresses and flowing cloaks and tight vests. Nekoma’s black and red was a telltale sign, along with Karasuno’s blue and orange. Seijoh favored the white and green palette, while Shiratorizawa stuck to a white and purple. These were the closest neighboring kingdoms to Fukurodani, and common guests to their various parties and gathering as well. He was among friends tonight. 

He found himself quickly slipping into the partying mood, the swell of pride and the excitement of the night blooming inside him. He was at ease here with all the people around him, all the people that were here for the ball he threw. He was a good host, and it was his birthday after all, so he should be allowed to enjoy himself. Even if he couldn’t find Akaashi to enjoy it with.

Bokuto found himself mingling in light conversation with a few others he hadn’t seen since the last party he threw. A long line of nobles insisted on coming over to wish him a happy birthday, and he received their well wishes and gifts with many thanks. Usually he would be giddy with excitement at this point of the night, but something was keeping him from letting himself go to all the fun and partying. 

It would seem that he couldn’t take his mind completely off the absence of one very pretty mage. _Where is Akaashi?_

He looked around uncertainly again, trying to look for him.

It was then that a harried figure entered the ballroom, and a sense of deja vu washed over Bokuto. _Hide hide hide_. He jumped into action, twirling his way onto the middle of the dance floor where he knew Yukie-san would never follow. She must’ve been sent by his parents to keep a watchful eye on him in their absence. He should’ve known that they would never abandon vigilance even when they were out of the kingdom. 

The music seemed to pick up its pace, swelling into a frenzy of beautifully-played notes that chased Bokuto across the dance floor as he tried to outrun a very fed up royal secretary. He had to blend in fast, which meant that he needed a dance partner. How on earth was he going to find someone to dance with? 

In his panic, he found himself stranded in the middle of the room, where both the music and the stars swirled around him. 

But that was not all that he found.

For Bokuto found himself staring.

And the stranger was staring back.

The man was staring through a mask that was not entirely familiar to Bokuto. The gleaming white surface swooped up into a curved beak, speckled feathers of brown and white lining the pointed edges of the mask. There was a wavering field of something powerful around him, as if the air was shimmering. It took Bokuto a whole moment to realize it was a glamour, one made to hide his true identity; while glamours were relatively common in his time, Bokuto had never seen one in person before. When he tried to commit the features of the man’s face to memory, there was only uncertainty and intrigue where his mask didn’t cover. The glamour made it impossible to tell just who this mysterious masked stranger was.

Yet Bokuto found himself entranced. He was lost in the mystery of who this stranger was, and even though he couldn’t tell exactly how the man looked like, he could tell that one thing was for sure: this man was good-looking as _hell_. The white cloak draped across his slender shoulders, cascading past his waist to the floor. It lent him a spectre-like quality, and Bokuto was afraid that if he blinked, the stranger might just vanish into the night. 

Bokuto found himself extending a hand to someone he didn’t even know. 

“Dance with me?” 

The man didn’t speak, but he moved to accept the prince’s hand. Bokuto found himself resting one hand on the stranger’s lithe back, and before long they were being swept up in the dancing crowd. There was a slight bubbling of guilt at the back of his mind, telling him to go look for Akaashi, but it was banished the moment the music ballooned into something slow, elegant, and perfectly danceable.

Anyone could tell you that Bokuto — brash and loud and wild Bokuto — did not seem like the type to ballroom dance. But it just so happened that Bokuto _loved_ ballroom dancing. There was a certain intimacy in the way two dancers waltzed across the floor, sharing a moment with each other. Even with all the other dancers around them, it felt like they were alone, with nothing but each other’s company in the sea of activity. It made him feel that much closer to this mysterious masked stranger who he knew nothing about. 

They eased into a slow waltz, with Bokuto leading them into the light. The stranger followed his steps with a natural ease, his hand in Bokuto’s as they glided across the carpet. It was like the music was lifting away the weight of gravity, sending them spinning and moving deeper into the far reaches of space, with nothing but the stars and the night around them. Like two birds intertwined in the melody sung by a universe so large that one dance is but a small point of time that stops and beguiles in the most fascinating of ways. They were caught in a most lovely painting of somewhere far, far away where dreams do come true.

Bokuto felt his heart go just a little bit faster as he looked down into his partner’s eyes. They were glazed over with the same shimmery energy, but they returned his stare with a gaze more intense than his own. Just who was this mystery guest? 

“Which kingdom do you hail from?” Bokuto’s voice barely carried over the music.

“Does it matter?” Even the man’s voice was distorted, a slight melodic ringing obscuring his inflection. Every word came out distant but near; shrill but low, familiar yet uncertain. His eyes were still trained on Bokuto, his stare wary and guarded.

From this close proximity, Bokuto could see slight wisps of dark hair springing out from behind the mask, and he bit back the temptation to reach out one hand to tuck them behind the mystery man’s ear. 

“It matters to me,” Bokuto insisted. “I want to know who I’m dancing with.”

The rich music in the back started to crescendo, and their steps started to speed up.

The dance would be over soon. 

“Isn’t the whole point of a masquerade ball to hide the identity of your guests?” The stranger asked, voice rising into a slight tease.

“This ball is invitation only.” Bokuto leaned in closer. “Have we met before?”

“How insistent,” the stranger tutted, pushing away from Bokuto with a slight twirl.

The song was drawing to a close. 

“Wait-” 

By the time Bokuto could respond, the switch in partners whirled the masked stranger away, leaving him with a mind full of questions. _Who was that? Why were they so good at dancing? Why did he find them strangely familiar? Why a glamour? Why a bird mask? Why was he so interested?_

“Bo! Fancy meeting you here.” 

“You again,” Bokuto grumbled, feet falling into step on instinct. “Did you see that man?”

“What man?” Kuroo looked around, keeping in time to the music.

They danced around each other, a familiar jaunt to the sudden change in music, the instruments having taken on a slightly cheerier and faster tune. 

“The one with the white bird mask!”

“I don’t see anyone with a bird mask except you,” Kuroo retorted, poking Bokuto’s owl mask in the beak. 

“But he was right there!”

“See for yourself.”

Bokuto looked around, and it turns out the smirking cat was right for once. Through all the elaborate costumes and masks around him, there was nobody with a white bird mask. Everyone was dressed elaborately in masks of all sorts: animal, traditional, patterned, painted — but none of them was white, or had a beak. _Had the stranger already left the dance floor?_

He made a strangled noise of frustration.

Before Kuroo could say anything, Bokuto had already leapt off the dance floor, tearing through the crowd in search of the masked stranger. He had to know. Their dance had been short and sweet, but he found himself at the mercy of his own curiosity, and if he didn’t find out who the stranger was by the end of the night he just might die.

“Typical Bo.” Kuroo shrugged, excusing himself to go find Kenma.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Bokuto rushed out into the night air, trawling the balcony for any sign of the masked stranger. He could’ve sworn he spotted a dash of white dart out through the glass doors. Swinging wildly around, he continued his rampant search, drawing some confused glances from those who had come out onto the balcony to escape the noise inside.

_White bird mask, white bird mask, white bird mask, white- Akaashi???_

“AKAASHI!” 

Bokuto flew into another tackle as he practically launched himself across the balcony and latched onto the mage. 

“Bokuto-san, you’re being very loud.”

“Hey, where did he go?” Bokuto managed to peel himself off Akaashi’s side.

“Where did who go, Bokuto-san?”

There was no sign of the masked stranger anywhere.

“Doesn’t matter now that you’re here.” Bokuto grinned.

As much he was dying to know who the masked stranger was, it no longer mattered so much now that his favorite mage in the whole wide world was finally here. 

Akaashi coughed into his drink, hoping the dim light wouldn’t be enough to expose the slight flush of red across his face. He was very, very aware that Bokuto still had one hand attached to his shoulder, and while it was a very welcome touch, he still would like to be able to think clearly without the prince’s warmth slowly seeping into his being and wiping all his clear thoughts from his brain. 

“Where have you been?” Bokuto asked, pouting. “I’ve been searching for you all night!”

“You have?” Akaashi took another sip from the glass. 

When Bokuto had told him to infuse all the drinks with his “sparkly shiny magic”, Akaashi had many questions of his own. But now he could see that perhaps there was a method to the madness after all. The stardust exploded in the back of his throat, the mellow flavor dancing across his tongue in a wave of warmth. It made the champagne that much more of a party drink. He wasn’t much of a drinker himself, really, but he did enjoy the occasional bubbly, even if it was a magically-infused one. 

“Of course!” Bokuto was still draped across his shoulder. “Enjoying the champagne, Akaaaashi?” 

“Yes, it’s very palatable,” Akaashi remarked. 

“I chose it myself,” Bokuto announced proudly.

Akaashi could swear that his chest was puffing up like a proud owl.

“You have great taste, Bokuto-san.”

“You really think so?” The prince’s eyes shot open even wider.

“Yes.”

“Well, I like your mask, Akaashi,” Bokuto remarked. “We’re matching!” 

If he wasn’t staring before, he was definitely staring now. 

The mage’s mask was fashioned into the likeliness of an owl. But while Bokuto’s own owl mask was reminiscent of the classic Fukurodani horned owl with its black and white pointed tufts, Akaashi’s mask was a dark purple, accentuated with soft feathers of brown and white and coated with a glittery powder of some kind that reminded Bokuto of stars. It should’ve been dull, but on the mage it looked absolutely stunning, a perfect pairing to the tightly-cut black vest and cloak that he was standing in. Every time Akaashi brought his glass to his lips, Bokuto’s eyes couldn’t help but trace the slender curve of his wrist and his gloved fingers on the base of the glass, silver cuffs glinting under the light. 

Akaashi wondered if he could shrug off the growing redness in his face as a side effect of the alcohol. Bokuto’s golden yellow eyes did not lose their gleam in the dark of night, 

and although Akaashi tried _really hard_ not to give in to his impulses, he still returned his stare in the end anyway. 

In all honesty, he had spent a fair amount of time weighing the pros and cons of showing up to this ball. He had never been much for royal balls, or anything that involved royalty really, but the thought of a disappointed Bokuto showing up to his shop the next day didn’t quite strike a pleasant chord. Even now, he could feel the excitement vibrating through the crown prince as he continued to stare at Akaashi. He didn’t even know why Bokuto had invited him, frankly, but he decided it was worth braving the crowds and the noise when it came down to getting a chance to see his excited grin. 

“This is really classy,” Akaashi managed to say, trying desperately to switch the subject. He didn’t know how much more of Bokuto’s staring he could take.

“I can do class when I want to,” Bokuto declared proudly.

“Indeed you can, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi affirmed.

“Thank you for coming, Akaaaashi,” Bokuto said, dragging out the vowels of his name. 

Akaashi didn’t know why he liked that so much. 

He was suddenly aware of the lack of people around them. It was just the two of them standing on the balcony, overlooking the lights of the kingdom down below. It was a breathtaking sight, but Akaashi’s breath wasn’t just stolen away by the scenery. He found himself sneaking more and more glances over at a quiet Bokuto, who made no move to go indoors. Bokuto, whose eyes twinkled just as brightly as the stars over the sky — whose grin was terrifyingly bright, whose voice made Akaashi all warm inside. 

_This is just another prince_ , Akaashi reasoned with himself. He wsan’t going to go back on his unspoken vow to steer clear of royal politics, not to mingle with any form of nobility outside of work purposes. He didn’t need that kind of complication in his life. He had never been affiliated with any kingdom, nor had he tied himself down with a specific alliance to any royal family; although the thought of settling down had admittedly crossed his mind before, he didn’t know if he would let himself do something like that so easily.

He couldn’t let himself get involved with someone like Bokuto. 

Yet his resolve was threatening to crumble as soon as he looked straight into those golden eyes. He didn’t quite know why his heart was beating so fast when Bokuto wasn’t saying anything at all. Was it the stare, or the slight smile playing at the corner of the prince’s lips? 

Usually Bokuto thrived off being the center of attention at any party, especially one of his own, but he found himself settling down into an uncharacteristic silence next to the mage. He leaned down on his elbows, watching Akaashi look out onto the city with an indescribable look in his blue eyes. He wanted to ask the mage what he was thinking, what was going through his head, and how he was so pretty — but the silence was comfortable enough.

Being around Akaashi was comfortable enough.

It was crazy how much Bokuto wanted to know him; he wanted Akaashi to tell him all his stories and all the places he’s been and all the curiosities he’s seen. He wanted to learn what made Akaashi Akaashi; what got him into magic, how he had become a mage, why he had come here, everything. Like spare-no-details everything. Everything everything. 

It made Bokuto’s head spin, but in a good way.

The sound of the party raging on indoors faded quickly into the background, leaving only the soft breathing from behind masks and the swish of champagne in a glass drifting like a whisper on the night wind. Every time he inhaled, he was just close enough to Akaashi to smell the curiosity shop on him; the smell of smoke shadowed something sweet and distant and mysterious. 

It was a long time before one of them broke the silence.

“Happy Birthday, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto turned to look at Akaashi.

It was a miracle that he didn’t fall off the balcony in that moment. 

Akaashi was smiling.

Akaashi was smiling at him.

 _Akaashi_. Smiling. At. Him.

All thoughts of the masked stranger had long vanished from Bokuto’s head. 

He reached out a hand.

“Dance with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> definitely going to write up other works from the perspectives and stories of the other ships in this au and link it as a series eventually, so stick around if you find yourself interested in this world I've created.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	5. the empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iii. the empress  
> | fertility, love, beauty, abundance
> 
> The Empress is beautiful but elusive, the ideal of beauty and a nurturing partner. On her head, she wears a crown of stars to show her connection to the mystical realm and the cycles of the natural world. She is a symbol of grace and love, pleasure and luxury, and could serve to signify the "birth" of a new era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a slightly shorter chapter than the ones before, but one nonetheless

Bokuto awoke the next morning with the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.

He could’ve sworn his head was going to fall off his neck, the throbbing at the back of his skull a very present reminder of just what had happened the night before. He fumbled around for water, but there was no getting rid of the dry and sticky feeling in his throat so easily. A slight ringing in his ears from having scrambled off the bedspread too fast only added onto his nausea, the room starting to fade in and out of clarity.

_What the hell happened last night?_

The memories were slowly coming back in brief flashes, like flashes of visual lightning on a choppy sea. He remembered talking to Akaashi on the balcony and his slow sipping of champagne. He remembered whirling Akaashi around the ballroom trying to find the closest person he could recognize to introduce the mage to. He remembered pouring drunken praise after praise of Akaashi’s magic to a smirking Kuroo and a confused Kenma. He remembered Kuroo laughing at him, the sly bastard. He remembered trying to get Akaashi involved in his and Kuroo’s shenanigans, much to the mage’s chagrin.

He remembered all the partying and the laughing and the drinking.

What he didn’t remember was dancing.

Did he not dance with Akaashi?

Speaking of the mage, Bokuto had no idea where Akaashi was. He had no idea what time the party had ended either, but judging from the glaring sunlight slicing through his line of sight through the window, it must’ve been noon already. How long had he been asleep for? 

He wrestled on a pair of trousers that he hoped were actually his own, hopping all over the room on one foot trying not to crash into his bedpost. Everything was just slightly too loud for him. The wind tapping against the windowpane. The thud of his own foot hitting the floor. The sound of his own blood rushing up to his head. _Too loud. Ugh._

In his attempt to blow the stiff stray tufts of hair out of his own face, he stepped on something pointy and hard, eliciting a yelp. He scooped up the mask, making a face as he tried to make sense of it through his hungover stupor.

The dark purple. The glimmering coating. The brown and white feathers.

_Akaashi!_

Bokuto was about to lose his mind. 

His head was hurtling through the remains of the memories from last night as he desperately searched for an answer on why Akaashi’s mask was in his room. They couldn’t possibly have...did that, right?

Bokuto had to sit himself back down on the bed, the trousers still clinging onto his thighs, having abandoned his attempt to pull them all the way back up in favor of taking his mind through a mentally stressful journey through his memories. His mind was already straying to some not-unwelcome images of Akaashi lying on his bed, staring up at him with those beautiful blue eyes, and-

Nope. He wasn’t going to do that to himself.

_We partied. We drank. We didn’t dance._

Bokuto briefly remembered sprawling across a table. 

_Akaashi was trying to carry me up_.

Bokuto’s face heated up at the memory of Akaashi’s face coming that close to his.

 _We were walking._

Okay, Akaashi was walking. Bokuto was letting himself be dragged along, babbling all sorts of nonsense as he showed no resistance. He didn’t even remember what the hell he was talking about, but it must’ve been a handful. Drunk Bokuto was a very talkative Bokuto.

 _We got to my room_.

The suspense of remembering was killing him.

 _Akaashi dumped me on the bed_.

Bokuto remembered kicking and flailing and grabbing onto every possible body part belonging to a very befuddled Akaashi. So that explained how his mask had come flying off and landing in some obscure corner of the room. He wished he didn’t remember how drunk he was as he spewed out a very mangled confession of his crush to Akaashi himself, still rolling about on the bed like a fool. He could still see Akaashi’s very amused face in his head; the little hint of a smile and one raised eyebrow. _How embarrassing_. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and curl up and never see the light of day again. 

_And then Akaashi left_.

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

Still, his head was reeling.

 _Holy shit_. Akaashi had been the one to bring him back. 

And now Bokuto was holding his mask in his hands.

Bokuto couldn’t decide if he should be happy that he had an excuse to see Akaashi again, or if he should be mortified at his own outbursts. It wasn’t the smoothest move to confess your huge crush on the person themselves, but he could live with that. At the least, he could pretend he didn’t remember it, but he knew it would haunt his dreams for years to come. The memory of him dramatically confessing his love for Akaashi would probably be there years down the road, waiting for him to stumble over it and lose all ability to function for the rest of his days.

He leapt to his feet, already regretting it when he felt the heaviness rush back to his head. Enough about Akaashi, Bokuto had to at least find out what kind of state the castle was in after last night. Who knew if the kingdom was still standing once he walked out the castle doors? He could already hear the chiding from Yukie and the disapproval from his parents, echoing through some faraway chamber of the future that he didn’t need to be dealing with right now.

Wait a second.

_His parents._

Bokuto froze, a new sense of horror dawning over his face.

Out of all the things he could’ve forgotten, it had to be this one. The most important thing of all, and he had forgotten it! It was probably already too late, they should just build him a memorial and bury him in the royal cemetery already. How on earth could he have forgotten something so important?

In a flash, he was already running through the corridors, willing his feet to go faster and his mind to stop screaming.

He had to get to the gates before it was over.

 _His parents were coming home_.

“Nice of you to join us this early in the day, Koutarou.”

He winced. His mother’s chilling tone had not been missed. 

Bokuto was, in all honesty, quite surprised that most of the castle was still standing, all remnants of the party cleared out of visible range. Maybe that would explain why the castle staff was currently flashing him with the most incredibly bitter looks. He made a guilty mental note to thank them personally later. 

He murmured a quick apology and took his place at the head of the table, despite the court meeting having already started long before his arrival. Everyone was present, most of them trying not to stare as he nearly tripped over his own feet on the way to his seat. Yukie shot him a pointed look, examining his appearance from head to toe. He tried to shoot her a look that said “I know I look like a mess now but I’m here now, aren’t I?” but the throbbing in his head made it look like a sorry grimace instead.

“Like I was saying,” the old royal advisor Yamiji continued, having long gotten used to Bokuto’s ways. “Nekoma has been proposing that we bring Karasuno into our trade blocs.”

“But Karasuno is so much further from us than Nekoma, Shizen, or Ubugawa,” the external affairs secretary Kaori pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be too much trouble for over-land shipments to move between us and Karasuno?”

“Karasuno has been climbing up the trade charts recently,” Yukie added. “Their sudden popularity as a trading hub and their new inventions could be quite beneficial if we include them as a main trading partner.”

The table mulled it over in a moment of silence.

“What is that Karasuno up to again…” Konoha murmured from beside Bokuto. 

“Guess we can always count up them to come up with something new every day,” Sarukui sighed in agreement.

“It’s as they say,” Komi chimed in. “Karasuno is only predictable in that they’re unpredictable.”

“What do you think?” Konoha turned to his left.

It took Bokuto a whole moment for him to realize that the three dukes were talking to him. 

“Ah…” he said, quite eloquently.

Now that was a quick mistake, but by the time he realized what he had done, the whole table had already turned to hear him out.

“I guess we should see what Karasuno has to offer,” he hurriedly continued. “Always looking for new things to help us improve our own trade right?”

Karasuno shared some similarities to Fukurodani, having built a life into the mountains as well. However, while Fukurodani weathered harsh winters, Karasuno’s mountains promised lush green plains and warmer rocky outcrops. They had started out as a small kingdom lost in a sea of mountains, but they had slowly made a name for themselves, having created a frankly impressive defence and armed themselves with both power and knowledge. Innovation and tenacity were Karasuno’s strong suit, a lethal combination that boosted their kingdom up the ranks.

At his words, a wave of agreement started to spread over the table. Everyone seemed to nod and talk amongst themselves, the attention having shifted off of him. Normally he would be happy to entertain any questions that anyone has to ask, but on this fine morning he was just too out of it to say anything helpful.

Even his parents seemed to buy it, his mother observing him coolly from her seat, while his father flashed him an approving nod. They hadn’t seemed to notice his very hungover state. He had bought himself some time.

Bokuto heaved a quiet sigh of relief to himself.

“Karasuno will be sending an ambassador over soon if we agree to this proposition,” the advisor continued. “It would be wise to treat them with hospitality and a warm welcome.”

“Of course, I’ll make the preparations,” Kaori noted. “And extend an invitation to Nekoma as well.”

“Speaking of Nekoma, they have also sent over an advisory letter for us to strengthen our borders,” Yukie brought up.

“What? Are they saying that our borders are not strong enough?” Washio couldn’t help but feel a little peeved.

“I think that’s just how Nekoma is.” The advisor shook his head. “They’ve always had a very strong defence system.”

Bokuto surmised that this must be the doing of what remained of Nekoma’s court. After all, Kuroo couldn’t have been any better off than himself; he was probably lying in a ditch somewhere near the castle nursing a hangover. Kenma couldn’t be the one either, for he was probably too busy babysitting Kuroo. Nekoma sure got up to some funny things when their prince was away.

“Our defence is strong too,” the king finally spoke. “For years our borders have kept enemies and intruders out of the kingdom, and our offence is nothing to be joked about too. I say that we have it handled, but we should thank Nekoma for their... _concern_.”

“Besides, we have more pressing matters at hand to be worried about,” the queen agreed. “Matters such as looking for a suitor for our prince.”

Bokuto groaned inwardly.

“Do you have any idea how long the line of girls wanting to be wed to our kingdom’s crown prince is?” She turned to Bokuto with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Or guys,” Bokuto added, not that it mattered. 

He was not going to married yet, if he had anything to say about it. He was still quite young for a prince, only twenty-two and still very much kicking. Would it hurt anyone if he still wanted to enjoy his youth for a little while more before he was too old to be throwing parties or mingling around with the people he liked?

It was not like his parents were in any rush to get off the throne. They were still going to be around, even if he took over the kingdom. 

“It’s not a laughing matter,” his mother reprimanded his casual tone. “It is a serious matter, one of great importance to the kingdom.”

“I don’t want to get married yet,” Bokuto sighed, sinking deeper into his seat.

The court flashed each other a look.

Looks like the meeting will be over sooner than they had expected. 

“It is tradition for Fukurodani’s princes to find a suitor in their young age,” his father echoed, albeit in a softer tone than his mother.

“But it’s not fair!” Bokuto protested. “I’ve still got a lot to see.”

Being married meant an impending coronation, and Bokuto was nowhere near ready for any of that just yet. There was so much of the world he wanted to see, so many things that he wanted to do, so many people he had yet to meet. There were plains and valleys he had yet to learn the names of, mountains to climb and oceans to cross — vast reaches of water so blue he could already see them slipping away in a dream that he may never be able to reach. Maybe he would never get to take a dip in the oceans on the edge of the world, maybe he would never see the rise and fall of the lost kingdoms known in fables and myths, maybe he would never discover hidden treasure of gold and books. 

But Bokuto wanted to try anyway.

There would never be enough time in the universe for him to do everything that he wanted to do before marriage could tie him to the kingdom; but he still wanted to prolong his time anyway. He didn’t even know he wanted to get married. What if he had to marry someone he didn’t like? What if he had to marry someone who didn’t like him? He couldn’t decide which was worse. 

His headache was only intensifying.

“It is adamant that we proceed with the choosing ceremony,” the advisor tried to break it to Bokuto gently. “It will be held in two days.”

“Two days?!” Bokuto shrieked. 

His court already had a resigned look on their faces.

Bokuto’s quick mood swings had always been famous in court.

“Quieten down,” the queen instructed. “You knew this day was coming, Koutarou.”

Bokuto slammed his head onto the table, willing the world to go away. This had to be a dream, some sort of waking nightmare. Maybe if he just closed his eyes and shook his head everything would be gone and he would wake up. Two days was too short, two days to decide his fate, two days to come to a conclusion on what has been plaguing him his entire life.

Bokuto didn’t know if he wanted to get married.

Sure, he always knew he wanted to be king, to be a good and just ruler of his people. He wanted the throne, he wanted to get higher, and he had worked for it his whole life. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be at the very top of the world, leading his kingdom on towards a bright future.

But he didn’t know if he could do it now. He didn’t know if he could do it. All because he had to get married to be king.

It wasn’t like he never considered it. He had. He had spent years wondering who he would get to spend the rest of his life with, who would rule beside him, whose face he would wake up to in the mornings when he had to rush to courts meetings. He had spent so long wondering who it would be. He just hadn’t spent so long wondering if he was ready for it. And now that the time is looming closer and creeping up behind him like a cat ready to pounce, he was only sure of one thing: he wasn’t ready.

“We’ve enlisted someone to help you with your choice,” his mother continued, seemingly ignorant of her son’s distress. “Too many suitors to choose from, you’ll have a dilemma I’m sure, picking someone worthy of yourself.”

Bokuto felt like he was going to explode.

Even Konoha was staring at him concernedly, and Konoha never looked concerned. 

That was it.

He was going to stand up, and he was going to protest against his parent’s wishes. 

He was going to speak for for what he wanted.

He was going to-

“You may come in now,” the queen called out.

The doors swung open.

In walked someone dressed in shimmering purple robes, flowing down behind their back as they walked calmly and composedly into full view of the whole court. The thick and billowy fabric did nothing to conceal the very obviously magical aura around them, serving only to intensify their piercing gaze as it examined the faces around them, an expressionless look on their face.

It was like time had stopped. The earth stopped spinning on its axis. The clouds stopped moving in the sky. 

Bokuto had stopped breathing.

“Introduce yourself,” the queen ordered.

“Mage Akaashi Keiji at your service, Your Majesty.”

The mage swept down into a deep bow, a practised yet detached move. 

The moment Bokuto made eye contact with Akaashi was the moment that the truth was set into stone, carved into rock and written on his grave.

 _Bokuto Koutarou was truly and utterly fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi: *walks in*  
> bokuto.exe has stopped working
> 
> a new update will find you every week, and drop a comment if you're feeling this story.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	6. the emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iv. the emperor  
> | authority, convention, structure
> 
> The Emperor sits on a golden throne, locked into power by heed of tradition. Behind his throne looms a tall, impenetrable mountain range, signifying that he is backed by a solid foundation but resistant to making any changes unless he deems it necessary. Beneath the peaks flows a small river, offering some hope that despite his tough exterior, he is still an emotional being — it will just take a lot of digging and trust to open him up to his softer side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mages traditionally do not screen suitors as far as I know, but I decided that in this world they will, and by god will they suffer at the hands of their gay emotions while they do so

This ballroom was smaller than the other one, but it held a mysterious charm of its own. Instead of chandeliers, the ceiling swooped into high arcs painted with a tasteful maroon, the walls painted the same riveting shade. Lamps shaped like blooming flowers were attached to the gilded borders where the ceiling met the pillars, enveloping the room with warm light and stark shadows. It was sensuous, regal, and poised, much more so than the grand and open design of the bigger ballroom.

This made it perfect for hosting private parties and exclusive events. It was perfect for a banquet made for the kings, or a fairly posh charity function. Perhaps it was even perfect for a royal ball where the invite was extended only to potential suitors.

A small band of musicians took to the stage on the right of the long table laid out at the very front of the room. They piped low and slow notes through their curious instruments, a beautiful melody charming the room and all who stood inside. The music weaved its way through the crowd, accompanying the servers who hurried about offering food and drink to the guests.

For tonight, the castle was hosting some very guests indeed; guests from within the kingdom and guests from far and wide. Every single one of them had been shortlisted as a candidate for the prince’s hand. Throngs of people dressed in ridiculously expensive silks and feathered getups mingled in the crowd, swaying to the music, and occasionally throwing curious looks towards the front of the room.

Everybody in Fukurodani and outside of it, even the ones who were invited, could hardly believe that they were finally going to see the day that Prince Bokuto Koutarou was finally choosing a suitor. 

Speaking of their beloved crown prince, Bokuto was parked in a seat at the dead center of the table. The backrest was a little too stiff for his liking, the wood and cushion forcing him into a more presentable posture. He felt like his neck was going to fall off with how sore it was. Sitting up straight wasn’t his favorite thing to do. He liked to drape his legs on a table, prop them up on some sort of stool, or swing them over the handrests. Certainly not sitting stiff like a stick and suffering. 

He pulled at the tight collar around his neck. His dazzling clothes hung from his frame heavy and constricting, keeping him from slouching and sinking down into the chair where he could vanish beneath the table and nobody could see him anymore. The usually cozy wreath of feathers around his cloak felt like a weight, like it was too close to him and he just wanted to throw it off his shoulders and fly off into the night.

And worst of all? A certain raven-haired mage was standing right beside him, observing the ball coolly with a disinterested look in his eyes. Akaashi had not said a word to the prince since the ball had started, and Bokuto decided there and then that it was worse than losing his appetite. 

“So, how much did they pay you?” Bokuto gestured to his parents.

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, clearly not very amused at his attempt at conversation.

“More than you did, Bokuto-san.”

“Aw, Akaaaaashi! You mean you’re not here for my company?” Bokuto melted into the same teasing smile, leaning in closer until he was only inches away from Akaashi’s arm. The familiar smokey smell drifted off the mage in strong waves, spinning his head round and round until all he could sense was Akaashi.

“Hardly so, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi deadpanned.

“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto pouted.

Akaashi wondered how much more mangled his name was going to get over the course of this very long night. He very pointedly forced his eyes straight ahead, not even sparing a look at the dejected prince. There was a niggling thought at the back of his mind that if he did look, he might not be able to look away.

“We are in a professional setting, Bokuto-san,” he stated firmly. “It is your ball, so pay attention.”

Bokuto really didn’t want to, but since it was Akaashi who said it, he turned his head back to facing the room, falling back onto the stiff chair.

“Okay, Akaashi.”

He would rather be anywhere else but here, but now that Akaashi had been thrown into this flaming hot mess, Bokuto found it a little exciting. It was like he had found a little game that he wanted to play, one where he wondered how long it would take to rile Akaashi up until the mage would let up and entertain him. 

“Welcome all, esteemed guests of the night,” the king rose into his speech. “We all know what a special occasion tonight is for Fukurodani, and it is with great honor that we open our gates to the people. After all, we do hope this ball serves its purpose well.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes. _“Serves its purpose well_.” He should’ve just said they were looking for someone for his sorry ass and be done with it. There was no need for flowery language or anything of the sort.

As the king launched into a long speech about values and dignity, he found himself wandering back to Akaashi. There was something so regal about the way the mage stood, hands at his back and his impassive gaze sweeping the room; even though there was nothing noble about his descent. Bokuto did think that Akaashi did the whole poise and dignity thing better than he did, and he could easily watch the mage do nothing but stand there the whole day. 

There was nothing supposedly spectacular in what Akaashi was wearing, they were just mage robes that were meant to be more practical than stylish. But Bokuto found beauty in the way the cloth draped over his shoulders, how the slight shimmer of the detailing in the hems caught the light, how the small stitches down the side matched the blue of his eyes and the black of his hair. 

Even in a ballroom full of people attired in the richest garments and precious jewels, Bokuto still found Akaashi the prettiest of them all.

“Akaaaashi.”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“So, you’re here to help me pick a suitor?”

There was a slight clench in the mage’s jaw that would’ve gone unnoticed if Bokuto hadn’t been watching so closely.

“Yes, that is my job.”

“Do you think I really need a suitor?”

“It is not my place to say,” Akaashi stated.

Bokuto squinted. It was hard to wring emotion out of Akaashi’s responses, but he was not one to give up so easily.

“And now, it is time for the presentation.”

The music came to an abrupt halt, locking Bokuto back into the present.

The choosing had begun.

Everyone took their seats at long rectangular tables laid out around the side of the room. The servers trailed out from the various doors built into the ballroom, bringing with them the clink of glasses and the clang of trays. The glorious banquet of traditional food filled the room with a tantalizing aroma, enticing every guest with the promise of a hearty meal for the cold night outside. 

Laid out in front of him was a plethora of his favorite dishes, cooked to perfection by their grand armada of kitchen staff, but he hadn’t even touched any of it. It was like all his appetite was _gone_ , stolen away by some rogue tailwind or the inevitable crushing feeling in his chest knowing that he was going to have to choose tonight. He couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure of a good meal, and it was slowly killing him from the inside, knowing that the food was right there and he wasn’t able to eat _any_ of it.

He tried to quieten his thoughts when the music started to crawl into a grand swell.

“ **_Miyasaki Yoshie, daughter of the Northern river_ ** _,_ ” the attendant announced.

A beautifully-dressed lady with the shiniest black hair that Bokuto had ever seen stepped to the front of the room, gracing the court with a traditional greeting. Her dark locks cascaded down her back like a black waterfall, luscious and beautiful, concealing the determination in her eyes.

His mother hummed appreciatively beside him.

Bokuto huffed. 

He much preferred Akaashi’s black hair. Even if it wasn’t as groomed or as shiny as hers, he thought he liked it a lot more. He liked the slight curls at the edges where Akaashi’s hair would stick out and frame his beautiful face, the way the tufts looked slightly roughed up but would probably be alluringly soft if only Bokuto got a chance to run his fingers through his hair and-

“Go ahead.” His mother addressed Akaashi.

The mage nodded and stepped forth, magic at the ready.

The girl looked slightly apprehensive. It was understandable, most were not familiar with his ways.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” he murmured reassuringly, his deft hands weaving the energy through the girl’s own from his perch behind the table, threading and scanning through the very makeup of her aura until he extracted a ball of light blue, one reminiscent of calm, flowing waters and the rivers that ran through the land.

This was a technique he had spent the longest time perfecting. It wasn’t easy when it came to people. It was a much more refined way of judging the energy of a person, instead of just simply relying on human perception. Akaashi never did it for himself, but this was one of more popular services when it came to his work with royal courts.

He raised his hand and placed it gingerly on Bokuto’s left shoulder, shocking the prince out of his quickly descending mood.

Bokuto looked up, eyes comically wide, but Akaashi was not returning his stare.

This confusion was immediately overridden by the sudden suction he was feeling in his shoulder. Like rivulets of energy were shooting and twisting from his core and up into his chest, streaming into one quick channel from the tips of his fingers and the top of his head and out his shoulder. A brilliant gold started to light up the room as he watched his own energy pool into Akaashi’s hand, shooting through the very being of the mage and into the air. The gold danced and jumped and twirled around the blue ball, as if sniffing curiously at this new energy.

Bokuto found himself entranced. This was very obviously magic. It was a kind of magic that was beyond him, but he still found himself amazed — like he was a child again learning the great fables of magicians in faraway lands. This was a magic that he had always wanted to see.

Even the room was holding its breath, every eye in the room latching onto the dancing ball of gold. Everybody was curious to see how this turned out. Magic in the ballroom was never a sordid affair, and it was often a spectacle or a treat that only nobility got to lay their eyes upon. To be able to see a mage at work wasn’t quite the common sight in Fukurodani, for given the obscure geographical location of the kingdom, it was harder for magical practitioners to travel this far into the mountains just to seek work.

 _Pwiff_! The gold collapsed abruptly in a cloud of dust, shrinking in on itself and retreating like a scared horse all the way back to the table where it shot back into Bokuto’s shoulder with a jolt.

Bokuto gasped.

“Are you okay? What happened?” His mother turned to him, concerned.

“No, I’m fine! Just surprised, is all,” Bokuto chuckled. It was a funny feeling.

His mother flashed the mage a warning look.

“That was awesome, Akaashi.” Bokuto turned to Akaashi reassuringly, completely drowning out the concern radiating off the queen with his bright smile. “It didn’t hurt at all.”

“Glad to hear it, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi turned to look at him this time.

“Do you have anything to say about her?” He asked the prince.

“I trust you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi looked away for a second to recompose himself. 

“But, what happened to it?” Bokuto asked, his hair shooting up quizzically.

There was something unexplainable in Akaashi’s eyes, like they were _twinkling_ , but it was gone in a flash.

“It would seem that it is... _not a match_ ,” Akaashi announced to the room, his voice returning to its placid state.

The king and queen sank back in their seats with a sigh.

No matter, the night was only just beginning after all.

The girl bowed and retreated from the table, a slight fritz about her step.

“So that’s what you mean by helping me choose a suitor, Akaashi.”

“Yes,” Akaashi said simply.

“So, how does it work?” Bokuto asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

The attendants were already prepared to announce the next potential suitor.

“Maybe I can explain it to you at a better time, Bokuto-san.”

“Oho, so there will be a better time then?” 

“I did not mean that,” Akaashi coughed, returning his eyes to the front.

“ **_Nakashima Akihiko, nobleman from the Southern Plains_ **.”

Ah, the Southern Plains. Bokuto had heard of that sunny place, a small kingdom by the sprawling reaches of the valley. 

The nobleman dipped into a deep bow, ever the picture of poise and charm with his tight vest and pressed trousers. There was an alarming clarity in the blue of his eyes, like a shallow, bubbling stream with the sunlight glinting through it. He stared at Bokuto expectantly, as if willing a reaction out of the prince.

Blue eyes. Bokuto could think of a more beautiful pair of blue eyes than the ones in front of him. He remembered all the times he dared to stare straight into Akaashi’s eyes, only to find himself caught up in the storm and the sea. The quiet strength charging through the mage’s eyes was not something he could forget so easily. He found himself quite fond of those blue eyes. Akaashi’s blue eyes.

“Mage,” the queen commanded.

Akaashi nodded, beginning the process once again.

Bokuto remained uncharacteristically still under Akaashi’s soft touch as he felt the warmth draw out of him again. This time, the energy Akaashi pulled from the man was a bright green, one of freshly-cut grass and springtime sprouts. It settled easily into a curious ball, shooting towards Bokuto’s gold without much prompting from the mage. The two strains of energy twined and danced, putting on a show of color and light in the center of the ballroom that was much more vibrant than the previous one.

But Bokuto wasn’t watching this time. 

Instead, he was caught by a flicker of motion from Akaashi’s end. It was so brief that he wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t already staring at the mage.

He could’ve sworn Akaashi had stiffened up noticeably. There was something strained about the way the mage moved, his eyes fixed on the moving balls of energy, as if watching for _something_. Bokuto didn’t know what it was, but he was too caught up in looking at Akaashi to even care.

The light faded before he even knew it.

“ _Not a match_ ,” the mage declared, through clenched teeth.

“Looks like this’ll be a long night, huh Akaashi?” Bokuto nudged.

“It seems to be that way, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi sighed.

“I didn’t expect your magic to come in handy at moments like this,” Bokuto admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do something like this?”

“You didn’t ask,” Akaashi said. “My magic can do much more than decorating for a ball.”

“‘Kaashi! So mean.” Bokuto pouted. “Now I’m not interested in your magic anymore.”

“Is that so, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s voice lowered into a whisper. “That wasn’t what you were saying that night after the party.”

 _After the party_.

Bokuto froze. _Oh no_. 

“You did say you liked my magic a lot after all, _Bokuto-san_ ,” Akaashi practically purred, drawing out the vowels of his name. “Do you remember what you told me?”

Bokuto’s face easily rivalled the red of the walls. 

“Next one!” He called out, motioning for the line to move on as he tried to battle the heat rushing up to his face. He could not forget his drunken declarations of his glaringly obvious crush on Akaashi that night after the party even if he tried.

He was too flustered to even notice the small, self-satisfied smile that crept onto Akaashi’s face.

“ **_Kaoru Masumi, marquess of the Night_ **.”

Now the next candidate that came strutting to the front was a different sort, and they clearly exuded an air of mystery and allure that was obvious to the entire room. The smell of magic was recognizable most of all to the mage himself. They slipped easily into the greeting, an unmistakable appeal drawing the eyes of all who were watching.

“That’s a glamour, isn’t it Akaashi?” Bokuto asked.

It was a different sort from the one that the masked stranger he danced with at his ball used. It was less stable, and more shifty, full of glitz and glamour. It wasn’t one to conceal their identity, but one to enhance the appeal of their appearance. Bokuto briefly wondered if that was allowed, but then again his parents were so desperate for him to tie to knot that they had opened their doors to most guests that night.

“Yes,” Akaashi confirmed. 

“Begin,” the queen spoke up.

The process began again, this time the gold rising to meet a slithering strain of silver. The little dance started up again, a little more fast-paced, like there was a hint of urgency to it. It was less bright, but it was a beautiful contrast nonetheless.

Akaashi didn’t seem to agree, however. His eyes were trained on the marquess across the room, a raging intensity in his eyes that everyone was too distracted to notice.

“Akaashi…?” Bokuto had never seen Akaashi look this displaced before.

It was like the mage was locked in a staring contest with the glamored marquess, the speed of the energy ball only increasing as they continued to glare each other down. The growing tension was making Bokuto uneasy, and he turned to look at the energy ball.

The gold was growing smaller and smaller, and the silver larger and larger.

Akaashi snapped his fingers.

The ball vanished.

“ _Not_ a match,” he said, voice edging on insistent.

“So be it,” the queen announced.

“Wait-” 

Before the marquess could even say anything, they were ushered out of line.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked again, a little uncertain.

“I’m here, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied, voice evening out.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is just fine,” Akaashi assured. 

His eyes said otherwise, but Bokuto decided to take his word for it.

A long line of potential suitors went through the same process, only to meet the same dead end. _Not a match_. Everybody was getting restless, most of Bokuto himself. He couldn’t stop shaking his leg under the table, the collar continuing to chew at his neck. The night was getting more and more unbearable. 

Even Akaashi was getting more and more ruffled. With every person, he seemed to descend deeper into an unnerving silence, one that held unspoken words and a frustration that Bokuto couldn’t identify. He had long settled for watching the mage work his magic instead of trying to envision a life that would never exist with each potential suitor that greeted him. Now that he had gotten over the initial shock, Bokuto eased into the warm touch every time the mage pulled some energy out of him. It was much better that way, and easier on his heart.

The crowd was starting to lose its fervor. Everyone was merely simmering in wait, not quite expecting the tide of the night to change from this dismal tone. All the guests who came in with high hopes and heads held high were not slinking behind tables or wandering about the room, waiting to be released from the torment of waiting.

Bokuto’s eyes started to close. Of all the moments to fall asleep, it had to be now. 

Was it really his fault that everything was getting so awfully dull?

It was official — the choosing ceremony has hit a lull.

“How long is this going to go on before he finds one?” The king whispered exasperatedly, mostly to himself.

“This is clearly getting nowhere,” the queen muttered. “How many are there-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the doors to the room were thrown open.

It was like the cold of the night was unleashed, pouring into the room a different atmosphere than before. It was dark outside in the corridor, and a figure stood at the center of the open doors, as if waiting for the world to notice its presence.

The music jarred to a stop as heards whirled around to look.

Bokuto’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he jumped up on the chair to get a closer look.

In walked someone he thought he would never see again.

A white bird mask. A white suit. A white cloak.

And the same familiar shimmering glamour.

Even through the flickering field of energy around them, Bokuto could see that he was looking directly at him.

Staring.

Waiting.

Anticipating.

“ **_YOU_ **.”

Bokuto leapt off the seat, clearing the table easily as his guests glanced on in astonishment. He didn’t care if he was making an embarrassment of himself and his family name. He didn’t stop moving until he made it to the doors, staring at the masked stranger as if it was just a figment of his imagination, a hallucination perhaps. Maybe if he rubbed his eyes or reached out a hand to poke at it the figure would disappear into the night, returning to a mystery of his heart again.

Is this real? Was the masked man real?

Was Bokuto just dreaming?

“Him,” Bokuto declared before the moment could slip away, with as much certainty as he had ever possessed in his life. “I want him.”

The whole room was too shell-shocked to even reply.

The royal advisor regained enough consciousness to gesture weakly to the performers. He might need to sit down for this one.

Even the shock on his parents’ faces was too glorious to ignore.

As the music ballooned into a slow and beautiful melody, Bokuto turned easily to the masked man. He was getting a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Dance with me?”

There was no hesitation this time as the man swept into his arms with a sense of urgency that wasn’t there before, the two of them quickly easing into an impressive pace around the room. People leapt out of the way, clearing a wide circle for the dancing duo as they waltzed straight through the center of the room, over the patterned carpeting as the shadows fell over their face. 

Neither of them spoke, a strong desire coloring the beautifully frantic dance they had slipped into. There was a need rising up inside Bokuto’s chest, like this was something he had needed to do for years, for centuries, even though it had only been mere days since they had last danced together. They knew the way each other moved, even though they had only danced together once before. There was a certainty in the way they moved in synchronicity, perfect puzzle pieces of a familiar rhythm called the heartbeat; a flame finally igniting in the cold, dark night. It felt right, like a reuniting of worlds that briefly touched — new and mysterious but old and familiar. 

Many thoughts were running through Bokuto’s head, but the music shut them out. Screw the waiting, screw spiting his parents by not making a choice. It was like he was being pulled out of his shell of dread, a light to guide him from the depths and back to the clear reaches of sky up above. This was a whole other story he had never even considered before. A whole new person that he could get to know. He didn’t even know who was behind the mask, but he sure as damn hell would like to find out. He didn’t want anyone else he had seen that night. 

Everyone watched, entranced by the unusual sight, too shocked to even do anything about it. The whole world stood still in the lilt and swing of the dance, as if even the night and the stars and the moon above were peeking in through the glass skylights, witnessing a turning point in history. 

When the music finally slowed to an end, the two of them stood still, staring into each other’s eyes. They were but a point in time, a harmony of two parts, a colliding of worlds unknown. But even then, Bokuto could feel the intensity staring back at him from those hidden eyes, masked by a layer of intrigue. 

There was no doubt about it.

_Bokuto Koutarou had found the one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I use a name generator for the suitors? hell yeah you bet I did  
> akaashi is letting gay brain make his decision so what's new, stay tuned for identity shenanigans™ and more of akaashi's Extremely Logical Decisions next chapter  
> also he completely did not need to be touching Bokuto to extract his energy but goddamn did he do so alright
> 
> a new update will find you every week, and drop a comment if you're feeling this story.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	7. the hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> v. the hierophant  
> | tradition, convention, conformity
> 
> The Hierophant’s task is to pass down his spiritual wisdom and divining by understanding the traditions and core principles of his time. The crossed keys at the Hierophant’s feet represent the balance between the conscious and subconscious minds and the unlocking of mysteries, which only he can teach. He may be able to present alternate viewpoints to challenge the established hierarchy, rejecting the strict ideas of tradition and structure in favor of personal power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entire room: who are you?  
> akaashi: oh, haven't you heard?
> 
> the queen: why the mask?"  
> akaashi: *dims the lights and cues tragic backstory*

Now, Akaashi was very good at magic, if he were to say so himself.

He could weave stars into painted velvet with his own fingers, power entire armies with the rousing force of the new moon, draw out creatures of old from the night sky to foretell prophecies and remember forgotten legends; the list was lengthy and a journey in itself to explore. He had always shared a special relationship with his magic, and an undeniable connection to the cyclical nature of the universe and beyond. 

Akaashi was a mage.

He had long accepted the fact that he would never settle for any other role in the world. Even as a young boy, he could feel the calling of magic deep in his bones, burning and tearing through all that was normal in his life — sending him deeper into the lonely yet enriching world of magic. He felt the pull from the skies above, no, _beyond_ the skies above where the stars lay in wait and the moon stared down on weary travellers. It was no huge revelation or earth-shattering moment. It was gradual and easy and it felt like coming back to a home that he had always known. 

People tended to dramatize magic — to spin it into treasure and keep it hidden, or flaunt it to the world as a rare and obscure thing. Entire kingdoms have fallen or risen due to the influence of magic, whole wars waged in the name of magical pursuit. Some called it an unnatural blight on the natural order of the world, and others claimed that magic had existed long before we had even appeared in the universe, entrenched in the fabric of time and reality itself.

Akaashi didn’t limit himself to definitions. Magic was magic. It could be special, it could be normal, it could be everything in between. What he did know was that magic was everywhere; there were many different kinds of magic that catered to all things holy and unholy. It didn’t take long for him to learn that magic was different for everyone. 

For him, it was a way of life. He could not remember a time where magic did not exist in his world. He learnt and taught magic, seeked out all the ways and let them find him, made his name while retreating into the isolation of being abnormally skilled. It was a life of dualities, and he was perfectly fine with that. 

Yet after all these years, there was still one thing that he had never been able to do.

 _The great mage Akaashi Keiji could not clone himself_.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

As Akaashi waltzed across the room, one hand in Bokuto’s and the other fastened onto his back, only then did he realize the implications of what he had done. He could finally feel the full weight of all the eyes in the room fixed on them, the shimmering glamour around him doing nothing to hide their stares.

Everyone was looking.

There was truly no going back now.

If one were to look closely at the mage standing behind the table, they would see him flickering under the dim light. That was unusual in itself, but not so much strange when you consider that it was only an _illusion_. 

Yes, Akaashi had left an illusion in his place. It was a needless risk, one that was birthed from selfish desire and a damning need to know how this night could turn out if he were a weaker man. And tonight, he was weaker than ever, all because of one Bokuto Koutarou. He was weak for a damn prince, and even though he knew he would regret this, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Fortunately for him, everyone was too transfixed by the sight to even cast a glance at his quickly-fading illusion of himself. He could only hold the illusion for so long, struggling to maintain it from afar as he melted into Bokuto’s strong arms.

It wasn’t too difficult planting a fake Akaashi in his place when Bokuto had been nodding off, barely conscious of the things going on around him. Everyone was too busy pretending to be entertained to even notice him slipping away from the table. He honestly had his doubts about whether it would’ve worked or not, given how the prince had been practically staring at him for the whole night. Even while heating up under that intense gaze, he had been fighting not to return it. 

In the end, his feelings had won out.

Akaashi had always been careful never to let his emotions interfere with his work. It was a nasty business trying to detach himself from the intimate nature of his dealings, but he had been doing fine all those years abroad. It was ironic, for he cast the best spells and drew the most power when he let himself be passionate about his magic. Emotion was the source of great and volatile magic after all, but not so much for the practical jobs he had found himself taking up in older kingdoms where there was no need for power and big change. 

And now? Now he had let his own feelings tempt him into doing such a reckless thing. 

He did not know exactly what drove him to such extremes.

Maybe it was the smile teasing at the corner of Bokuto’s lips every time he said his name, every time he cast a glance in the mage’s direction. The infuriatingly charming face that he couldn’t get out of his dreams at night, and now haunted him from every angle in the day. Bokuto never failed to deliver a smile so genuine every time he looked Akaashi’s way, even if he was bogged down by the sulking mood of the night.

Maybe it was the influx of people in the room. By no means would Akaashi call himself a jealous man, but it sent a little heat crawling under his nerves when he saw the sheer number of people jiving and shoving to get Bokuto’s attention, hoping that he would pick one of them; some of them were only doing it for fame or prestige or wealth. It irked him to know that any one of these people could be the one Bokuto would spend the rest of his life with.

Maybe it was the way the king and queen talked about Bokuto. They talked about the night as if it was a necessary evil, a tedious process just to breeze through and get it over and done with. They talked like it wasn’t Bokuto’s most important night, one where he may have to commit himself to someone for the rest of his life. This decision was life-changing, and his parents didn’t seem to understand that. He thought it unfair for the sincerity that Bokuto put into his consideration, all the thinking long and hard every time someone stepped up to the front.

He wanted to take matters into his own hand. He wanted to show them all.

Yet Akaashi never intended for it to go this far.

But here he was anyway, standing before the royal court of Fukurodani in a white bird mask.

“Who are you?” The king asked, with as much tact as he could muster before a roomful of shocked guests who all thought they had a chance.

“I’m here for Bo-, the prince’s hand in marriage,” the masked man said decidedly, tone unwavering. “Just like everyone else here.”

The hand around his waist that belonged to one very insistent prince tightened. 

“Then show us what’s under that mask,” the queen commanded, voice bordering on disbelief. “We must know who you are for you to marry our son.”

Bokuto turned to look at the masked man with an encouraging look — one of assurance.

“Ah, I would rather not,” the man began.

“Why not?” The queen demanded.

The room held its breath.

“I have a scar,” the masked man announced to the room. Upon seeing that he had captured the attention of everybody around him, he proceeded, his tone dropping into a more sombre one. “I was burnt in a fire as a child, so I would like to keep the mask on for the sake of the more delicate souls in this room. I can explain if I must, but I prefer to do it under more _private_ grounds.”

The entire room seemed to nod in understanding, offering him looks of sympathy. Even the queen seemed to wrinkle her face up into one of pity, the king wincing beside her. The courtiers were buzzing amongst themselves at this new development, hushed whispers wondering how they would decide. 

“Let him keep it on,” Bokuto spoke up, firm and assertive.

Akaashi had never heard him sound so sure, and it made his knees go a little weak.

The queen seemed to consider his words. 

It was indeed against tradition to allow a stranger into the choosing ceremony — one with no name, no clear lineage, no origins, no _face_. It was unconventional indeed, nobody could be sure of who exactly this masked man was. It would be practically heresy to let a completely anonymous candidate into the choosing pool.

Yet the king and queen and their entire court were desperate. They knew a solution when they saw one. They also knew their prince very well. Once he had made up his mind — especially in the matters of passion and emotion — there was no changing it for him. They had been playing the waiting game far too long to let go of this opportunity now. 

“Where’s the mage when you need him?” the queen muttered, unsure.

Bokuto looked around wildly for Akaashi.

Akaashi briefly wondered if he should feel bad for that stunt.

“I’m sure he’ll show up sometime soon,” Bokuto said, equally confused. “Can we get on with it?”

“All shortlisted candidates will be handed a silver key,” the advisor proceeded. “There will be a trial period where they will stay in the castle, and a final selection process that will be headed by our prince himself.”

The queen was staring Akaashi’s way, as if quite uncertain what to make of him.

“Of course, all candidates will have to consent to it,” the advisor continued, looking pointedly in the masked man’s direction. “There will be a rigorous examination of how suitable you are for our prince.”

Akaashi found it admirable that the advisor was still trying to hold on to the only semblance of professionalism in the room that had been torn to shreds by his appearance. 

“You’ll accept, won’t you?” Bokuto turned to look at him, eyes wide and imploring. 

Akaashi could only nod from behind the mask.

“That’s great!” Bokuto smiled beside him, oblivious of the mage’s suffering.

Akaashi sighed inwardly.

He didn’t know why he had agreed to this job offer in the first place. It was what had landed him in this hot mess in the first place.

Was it to spite Bokuto-san? To wipe that beautiful smile off his face when he first walked into the room? 

Was it to spite himself? To tell his own feelings to go fuck themselves as he faced them head-on?

Was it to spite the universe? To curse the universe for putting him in such a difficult battle between his head and his heart? 

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take anymore. All of it was happening so fast. One moment he was just a visiting mage in a mountain kingdom, and the next he was courting the prince of said kingdom in a ballroom dance that would go down in history, waiting for his hand in marriage.

It wasn’t until he was holding the silver key in his hands that he knew he had made a grave mistake.

_When did his life get this ridiculous?_

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

It was a slow and quiet night when Bokuto stepped out onto the small balcony, the events from earlier on buzzing through his head. The air was laced with the fading smell of floor polish and the musk from the ball, soft clinging sounds in the back as the staff cleared up the place.

He was still a little woozy coming down from the high of the night. It felt like a whole other past lifetime, and the moment he set foot on the balcony — he was entering a new stage of his life.

Everything was still so surreal to him. 

There was already a small procession lined up in wait for him, standing by the doors with hands respectfully tucked behind their backs. Konoha offered him a sly thumbs-up as he walked past, and a whistle that he pretended to ignore. Bokuto knew he would never hear the end of Konoha’s teasing for as long as he lived, now that he was about to be officially wed.

The session was beginning.

“There you are, Akaashi! Where did you go?”

The mage shushed him, offering him a pointed look.

“Oh, right! We have to be quiet,” Bokuto’s voice dropped into a whisper.

“I have to focus to get this right, Bokuto-san.”

The skies were blazing with trails of twinkling stars tonight. Entire constellations mapped out the night sky, like diamonds embedded into a deep blue quilt where the moon cast its brilliant light on the slumbering lands below. There were stars everywhere Bokuto looked, piercing dots of light in the fabric of the universe, each one so bright and unwavering that he found himself fully captivated.

He had never seen this many stars in one place. 

“Did you call the stars, Akaashi?” Bokuto breathed out, standing uncharacteristically still, as if any small move might disrupt the beautiful starscape above. “There’s so many of them.”

“Mm,” Akaashi affirmed vaguely.

Fukurodani was always afforded a splendid view of the constellations this time of year, and the moment he came here he knew he had to use that at least once to his advantage. Never would he have expected that one chance to be standing on a castle balcony, about to divine the fate of a lovelorn prince and his masked lover.

Especially not since the masked lover was none other than himself. 

There was a cast-iron pot laid out in front of Akaashi, along with his ceremonial athame and all the ingredients he needed for a proper ritual. Inside the pot lay a batch of moon water, one that he had collected from the previous lunar eclipse, known to have powerful properties for divination like this.

Divination was a tricky thing. There was a lot of room for mistakes, but a lot of room for potential as well, so it wasn’t something that Akaashi personally liked to rely on. But people tended to like answers, to feel that much more secure in knowing that they could catch a glimpse of the future, to clear up such uncertainty in their lives. Even when they knew that the future was fluid and changeable at any time, divination would still bring comfort to their souls. 

And if bringing comfort to the king and queen’s souls meant that he could earn his weight in gold _and_ delve deeper into the mysterious workings of Bokuto’s heart, Akaashi would gladly divine.

It was a so-called tradition of the royal family to turn to more spiritual means as a way of deciding. They were inclined towards magic in that sense.

He could feel the occasional curious glances from the royal officials lined up from afar, eager to see what he was doing. Akaashi was very accustomed to it. There was nothing wrong with being curious about the way magic worked, although he didn’t personally favor an audience when he was doing serious work.

“Bokuto-san,” he directed, leading the prince’s hand to the pot. 

The golden energy streamed out smoothly from his hand, shooting through his arm and trailing through his fingers, landing neatly in swirling water. It started to spread through the water, mixing with the potent properties until it produced a shimmer of its own, rippling and pulsing in the pot. 

“Keep the one you are looking for in your mind,” Akaashi instructed the prince.

Bokuto nodded duly, squeezing his eyes shut as he thought long and hard.

Akaashi found it adorable. There was really no need for Bokuto to close his eyes, but he wasn’t about to interrupt the prince’s thinking.

He looked to the sky for answers.

It was the constellation _Cygnus_ that called out to him, one of a white swan with a long neck and widespread wings. It soared through the night sky, wings outstretched as if locked in an eternal dance, fated to roam the stars. It was one of Akaashi’s favorite constellations, one of the first he had learned back in his early days. 

The pot swirled clear again when he called upon the constellation, the water returning to its crystalline form. 

Akaashi stared into the pot, his eyes seeking out something far away beneath the surface. It always took him a little while to slip into the state, but once he got there it was easy to find what he was looking for.

A plume of something red and smokey curled into a heart at the surface, one that only he could see.

“What are you doing?” Bokuto asked, genuinely curious.

“Star scrying,” Akaashi replied simply. “It’s a method of divination.”

“So what do you see?”

“A heart,” Akaashi explained. “It is a symbol of love.”

“Does this mean we’re compatible?” Bokuto asked quietly. He didn’t have to clarify who “we’re” was. 

“Yes, it means you’re compatible,” Akaashi offered no further explanation. There was a little twinge in his own heart when he saw the way Bokuto pumped his fist into the air, drawing a look from the rest. Was it possible to be jealous of yourself?

“I knew we were meant to be!” Bokuto exclaimed, completely oblivious of Akaashi’s personal dilemma on the side. That’ll show his parents. “Is that all, Akaashi?”

“ _Keiji_ ,” the mage said a little too quickly, earning a quick look from the prince. “My name’s Keiji, Akaashi Keiji.”

Whatever spurred him to reveal his name created the same quick racing of his heart as Bokuto turned to look him in the eyes. Even in the dark, the golden ring in the prince’s eyes was clear and bright and inquisitive and surprised.

“Okay, _Keiji_ ,” Bokuto declared. “Do you ever scry for yourself?”

Akaashi didn’t know if he was caught off guard by the sudden pronunciation of his name, or the question itself. He hadn’t expected Bokuto to use his given name so quickly, but then again he hadn’t known what to expect when he had blurted it out so carelessly.

“No,” he replied quickly.

“Then do it,” Bokuto said simply.

“What?” 

“Scry for yourself now,” Bokuto insisted. “I wanna see.”

It was an unusual request, but Akaashi had long learned that he wasn’t in the nature of turning the prince down for anything really.

“What should I scry for?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Bokuto pondered. “What can you scry for? How about love life or something fun like that? Something about who will be the one for you?”

The universe must be mocking him.

“If you insist,” Akaashi sighed. 

The constellation that called out to him this time was _Noctua_ , the owl constellation. Many did not consider this particular formation of stars a constellation, but Akaashi found that he would still like to include this particular one in mind just in case.

He returned his eyes to the pot, staring at the water until an image came up.

“What do you see?” Bokuto asked excitedly, bouncing on his feet.

“I don’t see anything,” Akaashi stated.

“What does that mean?” 

“It means it failed,” Akaashi said, standing as still as possible.

“Aw, maybe it doesn’t work on you because you’re magical already,” Bokuto suggested. 

Akaashi knew he was talking about the obvious fact that he was a mage, but he couldn’t help the slight flush that took over his face.

“Well, thank you for your help Keiji.”

Bokuto’s smile was going to be the death of him. He could already see it on his tombstone: **In loving memory of Akaashi Keiji, Celestial Mage of the Realms, Died 21 years old by charming smile**.

“No problem, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey! It’s hardly fair that I get to call you Keiji,” Bokuto protested. “Call me Koutarou.”

“Bokuto-san, it is unprofessional.” _And way too intimate_. His face was already heating up at the thought of calling the prince by his given name. It was too close a gesture, and even though he had already gotten himself in too deep, Akaashi would like a false sense of hope that he had any control left over his life choices.

“It’s okay! One day I’ll get you to call me Koutarou,” Bokuto said, absolutely undiscouraged by the mage’s reservation.

Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat.

He was doomed, doomed, and doomed.

When everyone else had left and there was only him, his heart, and the stars above, only then had he dared to turn back to the pot and take another look inside. There was no denying it, the image there for all to see.

_For there in the water sat a white horned owl staring right back at him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi akaashi akaashi, what have you done this time?
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	8. the lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vi. the lovers  
> | choices, alignment of values, meaningful connections, love
> 
> The Lovers stand hand in hand under a starry sky, their union blessed by the divine workings of the universe. The couple stands in a beautiful and fertile landscape, a testament to the future that could lie ahead of them, only if they were to make the right choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me trying a new text border because it's pretty

Akaashi Keiji did something the world thought impossible.

All of Fukurodani hailed it as a miracle, some even going so far to call it a myth. People were speaking of it in the taverns and trading gossip in the streets, children were hearing tales of it before bedtime, even the guards were chattering about it in outside the castle on morning patrol. The land was abuzz with excitement and disbelief. 

They called it a tale for the times. The birth of a new era. A turning point in time.

There was no way someone had done it.

You may be wondering, what had he managed to do that was so miraculous?

Akaashi brought Bokuto out of his emo mode.

Well that, _and_ he fell in love. 

Contrary to popular belief, there was no grand moment of revelation.

The ability found Akaashi, although everyone would like to think that it was the other way around.

They touted it as some sort of hidden magical power, a thing only a mage of his calibre could do perhaps. There was plenty of speculation, plenty of gossip, plenty of rumors (that Akaashi shall not name) — but none of them were quite right. 

Bokuto’s emo mode came and went as it pleased; it was like a roaring tidal wave that crashed onto shore, breaking up on the rocks and drenching everybody in the vicinity. It could flip the mood of a room in seconds, change the tide of a battle, and at some point Akaashi was ready to believe that the weather changed with Bokuto’s mood. 

There was no saying what could send him spiralling into it. A missing shoelace? Overdue paperwork? A sudden thunderstorm? Fish in the ocean? The grass being green? Nobody could see it coming until he was in the thick of it.

Until Akaashi came along, that is.

The more time he spent around Bokuto, the quicker he was able to pick out the signs. It was a little quirk of the eyebrows here and a slight tremble of the lip there. There was this vacant stare that Bokuto always lapsed into when he was on the brink of dejection, an uneasy blankness to his golden eyes that Akaashi found impossible to go unnoticed. 

It had become like Akaashi’s sixth sense.

 _Gifted_ , that’s what they were calling him. The matter was blowing up much quicker than he had expected. The whispers were reaching even the furthest reaches of the royal court, and the king and queen themselves had called in to offer a post in their court. A post. In their court. Bokuto swore he had absolutely no hand in this. It was simply a matter of objective proposition; the court would benefit from it, the kingdom would benefit from it, it was a logical and reasonable move to be taken. 

Akaashi would let him have that little lie.

It would seem that his name had spread further and wider than he would have preferred after his little gig at the suitor’s ball.

He knew he should refuse the offer, really. There was no earthly reason he should tie himself down to one kingdom and one court. He had taken up temporary positions in other kingdoms before, but those were different. Those were harder times, and always in faraway and bleary places that never quite left an impression on him. 

Every court that had hailed him just wanted to believe that they could hold reign over magic just because they had a mage at the helm. It was mainly for show. The roles he was entrusted with were mundane at most, simpler magics and divination that didn’t do much for his hungry mind. 

It was quite the irony. The nobility wanted to control magic, but they were afraid of it. They were scared to give him more, scared to let him have any sort of command or deciding power in their domains. That was part of the reason why he was never about the royal life. There was nothing for him in places like those.

But Fukurodani was a different story for an array of reasons.

The position he had been promised was advantageous to say the least. He had worked his way up to the front in such a short time. Power and riches awaited, but it was never just about the money for Akaashi. He would be at the forefront of the action, working closely with the court, brushing hands with those at the top of the hierarchy. He would need to gain a lot of trust, and he would have to start trusting too. 

It would be one hell of a challenge. And Akaashi _did_ love a challenge.

And of course, Bokuto would be there. 

It would seem that Bokuto was intent on making Akaashi stick around. He insisted on showing the mage around the castle once more, and then when that was done they moved on to the kingdom. Bokuto introduced Akaashi to everyone he knew with great vigor and an unrivalled enthusiasm. He tried teaching Akaashi the ways of their court, which shocked many around the castle grounds. Never have they seen their prince so enthusiastic about court conventions and traditions.

Everyone was quickly warming up to Akaashi. They greeted him like some sort of Bokuto-whisperer, and his role in court was quickly graduating into some strange personal guard or wrangler for the prince. Rarely was he seen in the castle without Bokuto trailing somewhere behind or enthusiastically barreling around and pulling him in tow. He was there to be the voice of reason, although most of the times he just got swept up in the prince’s crazy antics and spontaneous suggestions.

The kingdom trusted their prince’s judgement, and Akaashi found himself easing into the courtly scenery.

He was curious, to put it simply. There was something telling him that he should stay in Fukurodani, even if it was just for a little longer than he had planned. A few months, maybe. There could be something to be learnt here, something to be found. Akaashi wanted to know what would happen if he just let himself fall into foolish temptation for just this once. 

That would be his fatal flaw: curiosity. He was unendingly curious about everything, and one day it might be the death of him. But it was what gave him life too. A double-edged sword. It fuelled his thirst for knowledge and kept him going in the mornings. It haunted him in the nights when he couldn’t fall asleep with questions plaguing his mind. Curiosity was his friend, and curiosity was his enemy, and curiosity kept him in Fukurodani. 

Ah well, he was no stranger to negotiation and difficult choices.

He would pull back and leave when he drew too close to the edge, but for now he would stick around and see what develops.

He could stay just a little bit longer, even if meant that he had to continue his masquerade.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Bokuto seemed hellbent on doing two things — two things that would be the _death_ of Akaashi: following the mage around, and using his given name.

“Keiji,” Bokuto drawled, leaning on the sturdy wooden counter and watching as the mage reordered shelves. 

“Hm,” Akaashi mumbled in response, shifting the bottles around for the tenth time. He was angled away from the bored prince, so it wasn’t too hard hiding the slight red across his face. Was it too late to take his name back?

His stock had come in late this week. Akaashi had been up all night brewing potions, distilling essences, sorting out all sorts of questionable substances until the sun came up. He didn’t really mind working at night, especially now that he had free reign of the castle’s various balconies. He liked working under the stars. 

Just because he was working with the court didn’t mean that Akaashi was keen on giving up his shop. He wasn’t needed all the time in the castle, and he much enjoyed the quiet sanctuary of his own shop. Not that it was so quiet now that Bokuto had found his new hobby of hovering around like a rowdy poltergeist every chance he got.

“Don’t you have someplace to be, Bokuto-san?”

“Not really,” Bokuto said almost too nonchalantly. “This is where I want to be.”

“I’m sure a prince like you has much better things to do with your time.”

He slotted the last of his small vials into the row below the assortment of healing balms. They were labelled in the same curly but neat script, even strokes of the quill that Akaashi kept at the front counter, demystifying some of the items that customers were so curious about. He was all the about the organization, and was quite convinced that it was what kept his customers coming.

He was also quite convinced that Bokuto was driving his customers away.

“Spending quality time with my subjects is a good use of my time,” Bokuto replied, having the nerve to look satisfied with his own response.

“Why don’t you go spend more time with your...suitor?”

“Oh.” Bokuto blinked. “They’re not letting me see him yet, gotta make sure he’s not a secret assassin or something. Must be the mask.”

Akaashi half-scoffed. Of course it’s the mask.

“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be good for anyone if you’re dead,” Akaashi said.

“Of course not!” Bokuto took his hands off the counter and moved through the shelves towards Akaashi, much to the mage’s slight panic — whether for his heart or for his wares he would never know. “I’ll live forever!”

“Nobody lives forever,” Akaashi murmured, nabbing a long-necked bottle and uncapping it. He gave it a whiff, and rubbed his nose at the slightly acrid but infinitely soothing smell. At least it was still fresh.

“What’s that?” Bokuto quirked his head.

“It’s a potion for anyone looking for help to cross realms,” Akaashi explained patiently, holding out the bottle for Bokuto to sniff. "Astral projection."

“Ooh,” Bokuto breathed, stepping closer and leaning in.

Akaashi stilled, trying not to drop his precious potion bottle.

“You have a lot of cool things around here,” Bokuto declared.

He had come to love every little thing about Akaashi’s shop, even if he didn’t fully understand how most things worked around here. The shop was neat for the most part, lined with aisles of shelves and lit by lanternlight. Or at least what looked like lanterns dangled from the ceiling, spilling warm orange light into the place, like a fire that was alive. It gave the whole place a beautifully cozy and ominous atmosphere. 

There seemed to be something new every single time Bokuto visited. Even now, he could see a jar of something that looked suspiciously like eyeballs on the shelf to his right. To his left sat a curiously golden replica of a lizard, with silver stripes painted down its back, the eyes as realistic as it got. It hummed with a curious magical energy, along with all the other wares that Akaashi offered.

On the far side of the shop, there was a porcelain sink built into the wall, an array of brooms lying beside it. On the other side was a long wooden table with clawed feet, holding up a shiny weighing scale with an assortment of weights. That must be where Akaashi made his potions and cut up spell ingredients, although Bokuto was never early or late enough to come and watch him do that.

“What made you open this place?”

“Money,” Akaashi replied reflexively.

Bokuto turned to him with an inquisitive look.

“I wanted to prove a point,” the mage relented. “I wanted to show people that magic isn’t always something to be feared.”

“That’s really nice, actually,” Bokuto commented.

Akaashi looked up.

“That sounded like a compliment, Bokuto-san.”

“It is one!” Bokuto waved his arms, not even trying to stop the smile sneaking onto his face. He looked so earnest that Akaashi wanted to smile with him.

 _Look away look away_ , Akaashi had to tell himself. _He’s not in love with you_.

Bokuto had a suitor. Well, the suitor was technically Akaashi in a mask, but that was different. Everything was different. Bokuto didn’t know who the masked man was. He wasn’t Akaashi when he had the mask on. And Bokuto didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to find out.

Akaashi once again wondered if it was possible to jealous of himself.

“Do you like magic, Akaashi?”

Akaashi found it a strange question, and it must’ve been clear on his face.

“I know you’re good at it, but do you like it?” Bokuto asked, leaning in even closer if that was possible. “Do you wish you had a life without magic sometimes?”

If it was anybody else, Akaashi might have even found that question condescending. But with Bokuto, everything was so genuine and honest and curious that he couldn’t help but feel a little warmth inside. He was used to everyone asking him lots of questions colored with doubt and worry and fear, but never questions stemming from such a sincere desire to  _ learn _ .

“I don’t think I’d like a life without magic,” Akaashi laughed, surprising himself. “But I do wonder what it would be like sometimes.”

“What would you do in such a life?” Bokuto ran a hand through his hair. He did that every time he was nervous, and Akaashi could hardly fathom why he would be. He was simply asking questions and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

“I would get a cat.” Akaashi smiled. He quite liked cats. They were fickle creatures, but so majestic, and with a softer side only for those that they trusted. Sometimes he would realize he was just like a cat. 

“Hey, I like it when you smile,” Bokuto remarked. “You have a nice smile.”

Akaashi froze. There was another one of Bokuto’s strangely endearing traits. He tended to speak what was on his mind, and more often than not it was a compliment. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and so were his thoughts apparently. 

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Why was it only getting harder for Akaashi every day?

This may be one of the most confusing situations he had landed himself in.

**•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•**

Tonight the stars shone with such a brilliance that even Bokuto had to stop in his tracks to admire them, despite being a few metres off the ground and dangling precariously from a window.

He had taken great care not to be seen by the guards that made their rounds around the main tower, even going so far as to sneak through the communal kitchen just to get a shot at the lower ledges that bordered the side of the castle. 

With a huff, he propped himself up onto the stone windowsill with much effort, careful not to look down lest he fall and break his arm again. There was a little rim of rock carved into the wall beneath, and he could barely fit his shoes onto it as he edged slowly to the balcony on his right. Scrambling over the railing, he dropped onto the balcony and rolled into the shadows, narrowly missing another guard coming around the corner.

As he expected, the door to the room was closed.

Bokuto tried knocking.

 _Knock, knock, knock_. 

There was no response.

“Hello?” he tried tentatively.

To his surprise, the door was unlocked.

He stumbled in, closing it shut behind him and fumbling about with the lamps. There was barely anything in the room to even indicate it was being lived in, the bedsheets folded so neatly that there was barely a wrinkle in the corners. The only sign of human life was a hairbrush on the dresser, left out in the open.

“Are you hoping to see me without the mask?”

The voice thrummed under the powerful glamour.

“No, of course not.” Bokuto grinned.

“What are you doing here?”

The masked man turned around, his lithe back faced towards Bokuto. He was no longer attired in his white suit, instead opting for a more comfortable feathered scarf, a shawl pulled over his slender shoulders. Something about the intricate detail in the woven cloth told Bokuto that it wasn’t because he was cold. It did not make his mystery suitor any less irresistible.

The man seemed to have let up some of the glamour. Bokuto could see the outline of his face easier now, the curve of a high nose and telltale cheekbones under the mask. His black curls spilled out over the top, teasing Bokuto with the idea of running his hands through that hair. 

“I came to see you,” Bokuto answered, as if it was obvious. 

“Aren’t you worried that I might be a secret assassin?” 

“They told you, huh.” 

“Yes,” the man replied, turning to Bokuto with a playful glint in his eyes, and it frustrated Bokuto to no end not being able to tell what color they were. “Must be the mask.”

“I wanted to see you anyway,” Bokuto admitted. He couldn’t get the masked man out of his head. It was the intrigue of the mask, the warmth of his skin, and the lilting movements that the man made even as he walked around the room. It was slowly driving the prince insane.

“What about the others?”

The man must be referring to the other suitors who were offered silver keys. Bokuto had almost forgotten they existed.

“Nope, just wanted to see you only.”

“Hm,” the man sighed softly. “Wanted me so badly, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Bokuto found himself answering truthfully. It was surprisingly easy to talk to a masked man, even when he had no inkling of his identity. “Well, what do you suggest we do now?”

“I wonder,” the masked man said.

Bokuto took that as a cue.

Before long, they fell back onto the bed, Bokuto’s hands wandering up the man’s back, touching every bit of smooth and pale skin under his shirt. He was pleasantly surprised that this mystery suitor was so forward, but Bokuto did like a man who knew what he wanted and took it. 

They were kissing now, deep and passionate, and all Bokuto could feel was those soft lips against his own, and the smell of something sweet and distant that he couldn’t quite name. It only drove him deeper into the touch, pressing himself closer to the warm body of a man whose name he did not even know. He could feel the man’s hands in his hair, fingers rubbing at his scalp, and all he knew was that it felt _really_ good.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” he tried to ask in between breaths.

The masked man shut him up with another kiss.

Bokuto found himself exploring every inch of skin untouched by the mask, and then the mask itself. He hooked his thumbs into the straps hidden by black hair, and for a moment he considered taking it off and finding out who this amazing man was for himself, but that wouldn’t be right. He was sure his mystery lover would reveal the truth when the time was right. He didn’t want to be crossing any lines.

He didn’t want to ruin what they had before it even started.

Before they could go any further, there was a sharp rapping on the door.

Bokuto swore the masked man looked annoyed, his lips curled up into a frown. He looked pretty even when he was angry.

There was a voice saying something outside the door, and Bokuto reckoned it was a guard, or a personal attendant, or someone who had simply come to check that the masked man wasn’t up to some secret assassination mission or something. He was sure his parents wouldn’t mind one bit if he was caught in the room of one of his suitors, but they would still have to tell him off just for the sake of rules.

“You should go, Bo-” the man caught himself.

“Koutarou,” Bokuto insisted. “Call me Koutarou.”

The man stared at him a little funny before he relented.

“Koutarou.” It was strange to hear his name in the man’s glamored voice. “You should probably go.”

Bokuto nodded, darting back out onto the balcony.

He looked over his shoulder and flashed the man a wide grin.

“Guess we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they definitely almost fucked lmaoo
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	9. the chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vii. the chariot  
> | action, determination, willpower
> 
> The Chariot holds a brave warrior who grabs the reigns, steering it and taking action and moving forward. He has to keep moving forward, and he'll find a way to get the answers he needs, even if it doesn't work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simp kuroo rights ft. an excessive amount of em dashes
> 
> was gone for a month from this draft but I am BACK and with a. Long chapter so here we go

“Will you be okay wandering around here on your own?” 

“I’m not some kid who needs to be babysat, Kuroo,” Bokuto snorted. 

“Look, I’m just concerned about my best pal,” Kuroo declared, throwing his hands up in a gesture of peace. “My best pal who’s sad and alone and-”

“Hey! No need to rub it in,” Bokuto huffed, shooting Kuroo a look.

“Just stating facts,” Kuroo smiled that shit-eating grin of his. 

Bokuto wanted to yank that stupid fur coat off his head and smother him with it.

“Leave him be,” Kenma instructed. “I’m hungry.”

“Yes, my liege.” Kuroo dipped into a mock bow. “Anything for you.”

Bokuto snorted again. Kuroo practically turned into putty in Kenma’s hands, and for the longest time he had wondered to himself whether Kenma was secretly a wizard, using some powerful and forgotten magic to bend Kuroo around his little finger—but no, that’s just how smitten Kuroo was for his advisor.

“Do you at least want to go get some food with us?” 

“Nah, I don’t want to go on your date,” Bokuto responded, sticking his tongue out at the Nekoma prince, who laughed heartily at his response. 

“Fair enough.” Kuroo shrugged, turning to Kenma and rotating him to face the food stands. “We’ll come look for you later, try not to slip and fall and die in the meantime.”

“I’ll try my best,” Bokuto retorted, an unamused huff escaping his lips.  _ Slip _ and  _ fall _ ?  _ Die _ ? What did Kuroo take him for? Some clumsy lost owl? 

As Kuroo and Kenma walked away, Kuroo wrapped a hand protectively around his advisor’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper something that Bokuto couldn’t hear. As their silhouettes melted away into the picture of light and sounds and voices—leaving him standing alone on the corner of the street—Bokuto reconsidered Kuroo’s statement. Maybe he  _ was _ a clumsy lost owl.

Maybe he had fell. But he certainly hadn’t slipped.

No, he was very much aware of it when he fell for  _ them _ .

The bells rang down by the town square.

The winter carnival had begun.

It was that time of the year again—Fukurodani’s annual snow festival: the only regional celebration that raged on even through the thick of the kingdom’s harsh winters. The snow approaching the borders from the North was no excuse for anyone to be miserable and hole up in their houses. No, this was a time for celebration, for kinship, for warmth and connection and fun in the cold heart of the mountains.

Bokuto started running off towards the lights—the dazzling mixture of lamps and lanterns and fires and floating lights—eager to see what the carnival had in store for him tonight. The frosty bite in the air only propelled him along, like an itch under his skin that needed to be scratched, the fuzzy wreath of soft down feathers flouncing around him as he ran. The cobblestones were slick with snow, but that didn’t stop the enthusiastic prince from flying towards the source of the music and the light.

He gasped as he weaved through the towering sculptures that ringed the borders of the carnival—behemoths of snow and ice that captured the gaze of many. They seemed to be extra tall tonight, if only to match the intensity of their winter this year. Sculptors from all over camped out in the mornings and started their art long before the sun even rose, ensuring that their sculptures would be finished by night, where they would be bathed in a warm glow from the carnival lights—a living testament to the beauty of winter. 

_ Beauty _ , he mused. 

Bokuto wished Akaashi was here with him.

Akaashi was beautiful too.

For the record, he did try to invite the mage, only to be politely turned down because of a prior work engagement. Akaashi had another one of those serious and contemplative looks on his face when he said it, his mind clearly far away, so Bokuto had decided not to press him for more details about it. He had been looking forward to getting Akaashi acquainted with the ways of his kingdom—how they practically worshipped winter and thrived in the cold—but he didn’t want to come on too strong.

He had tried to get the masked man to come with him too, but he was nowhere to be found. The bed had been tidied and made, the room stunningly empty when he burst in, much to his disappointment. There wasn’t even a trace of evidence that the masked man had been in his room at all that day. Bokuto had stuck around for a while, resisting the urge to snoop around in the dresser or the bedside stand, waiting for his mystery lover to show up.

He never did.

So here Bokuto was, standing at the gates to the winter carnival as it went on in full swing around him; alone but excited nonetheless. 

He could still enjoy the night by himself.

Bokuto whirled around, drinking in all the sights and sounds and smells, wondering what he should do first. Usually he had no difficulty choosing what to do first the knowledge that he would eventually run through the whole carnival and go again tucked safely in his chest. But today felt a little different, as if he should be more  _ deliberate _ with his choices.

So he padded over to the slopes, where people of all ages queued excitedly for the snow slides and snow rafts. Kids were squealing and laughing and having fun and it put on a smile on his face. Several of them recognized him and ran over to talk to him about the rides, and he hugged each and every one of them eagerly, meeting their stories with tales and excited gestures of his own. He was glad that at least the children were always happy to see him, and it made him feel a little less alone walking around by himself.

Over the years, he had taken some dates to the winter festival with him, but none of them had stuck around. But those were still fun; it was nice to have someone pressed up against you with their arm looped through yours as you walked around together, two kindred souls linked together under the wintry night sky, enjoying the treats that the carnival had to offer. There something so romantic about being bundled up in layer after layer—huddled up against each other and waddling through the lights, laughing at how red each other’s noses were and holding hands.

God, he was such a sap.

He stood around and watched a few of the kids go on the rafts, screaming all the way as they whooshed off down the ramps.

Suddenly, he didn’t really feel like going on the rides anymore.

Next came the game stalls, complete with all the traditional games that lured him in the promise of prizes and a fun time. Bokuto was always really good at  _ otedama _ , even though he could never beat Kuroo’s dexterity at juggling the beanbags, so he never played it when that stupid cat was around. But he could hold his unbeaten record in spinning the  _ koma _ over Kuroo’s head, the humming top a satisfying sight to anyone watching. 

Would Akaashi be good at games? Would he still look all serious and foreboding with that slight crinkle of judgment in his eyebrows as he watched Bokuto try to get a prize for him? Would Bokuto try to win him a prize? Of course he would, and then he would pass it to Akaashi in the most dramatic and romantic way possible just to see if he would blush. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine Akaashi blushing. Would it be a full face flush, or a light dusting of red across his cheeks? Either way he was sure he would be blushing if he saw Akaashi blush too.

He wanted it to be Akaashi so badly.

After trying a few games, Bokuto found that he just couldn’t bring himself to be super immersed in the competitive spirit he usually harbored towards these lighthearted games. Usually he would have a friendly battle with Kuroo over the games, but the big scraggly cat was nowhere to be seen.

Bokuto could smell the food stands all the way from here.

But  _ no _ , he had to tell himself that he was  _ not _ going to interrupt Kuroo on a date. That was a breach in the bro code, and he didn’t particularly fancy feeling like a third wheel if he were to catch Kenma and Kuroo in a compromising position making out behind the stands or something.

But the  _ skewered meat _ and the  _ mulled wine _ and the  _ sweet mochi _ . He could practically  _ taste _ the damn food in his mouth already, flooding his senses with flavor and richness and all the things that were holy and good in this world. There was nothing quite like carnival food; there was something so heartwarming and homemade and touching about standing around in the snow with warm food and sweet desserts clutched in your shivering hands. 

No.  _ No _ . Turning away from the food stands, he found himself striding determinedly towards the other side of the carnival. 

It was getting quieter here, the hushed bustling and shuffling an interesting change from the laughter and sounds of the carnival’s more popular attractions. The snow crunched under his boots as he moved towards the cluster of dark red tents that sat under the starlit night. Somehow it was getting colder here, a chill moving in from the distant plains, the dark outlines of the peaks jagged in the distance.

Bokuto didn’t really visit the tents. It wasn’t like he was avoiding them in particular, it was just that he always had something better or something more fun to do elsewhere in the festival. But now that he was running out of options, he figured he might as well make the most of his night.

The tents here held a mysterious air, the shadowy figures moving behind the tarps and the dimly-lit interiors drawing him nearer and nearer, starting a slight thrumming in his heart. Even though he knew that there was much to be discovered here—with people of curious and thrilling professions of all sorts: flame-eaters, sword swallowers, exotic dancers, hypnotists, ventriloquists—he still felt a sense of apprehension in him stepping into the unknown.

He caught sight of a green glow humming from one of the tents, and creeping closer with a gulp, he found himself entranced by the sight. A dancer’s lithe figure twirled and swung with the flexibility of a snake, green flames leaping from hand to hand as they danced barefoot across the floor, midriff bare through the silk that flowed with them. A small crowd had gathered inside, eyes trained on their every movement. As if sensing a new pair of eyes on them, they swiveled towards Bokuto with a slippery smooth spin, a wickedly gleeful look in their eyes when he shivered.

As impressive as it was, he moved away, searching for another tent.

He looked through the flaps of another one, a curious smoke creeping lazily out onto the snow from the entrance. There was a crystal ball perched on the circular table fitted perfectly in the middle, and the ceiling was higher than it looked from the outside. It was entirely silent on the inside, like all the sounds were muffled by something soft and luxurious, a whole new world waiting quietly for someone to stumble in and discover it.

A cloaked figure stood with their back to Bokuto at the far corner of the tent. The only sound that permeated the air was the sturdy and crisp shuffling of cards. They appeared to be flipping through a deck of cards, fingers flying marvelously quick over each one as they examined the painted faces on the ones that flew out. 

Bokuto couldn’t help but stare. 

They must be some sort of fortune teller, they weren’t too uncommon at the winter festival. He wasn’t personally very familiar with the whole concept of fortune telling, but he figured that it wasn’t some gimmick, especially not after Akaashi had taught him the bare bones of divination. He had tried very hard to understand and listen, because it was Akaashi and everything Akaashi said was interesting, but he still didn’t really understand at the end of it all.

What would Akaashi think about him going to a carnival fortune teller?

The figure turned around. They were wearing a mask. 

Bokuto was starting to wonder about a curse and something about masks. 

Sure, he had a thing for the masked man, but he still didn’t know who it was behind the mask. Was the concealment of identity luring him in? Was it okay for him to love a stranger just because he was curious who they were behind closed doors? Was it wrong that the mystery and the allure made him a little hot under the collar, like a secret that only he could know in time if he just  _ waited _ a while longer and kept his feelings from running rampant for another man? 

What if he got engaged for real? What if the finality of it all locked him into this marriage of duty and he would never know what it was like to ever try and be with Akaashi? What if the masked man saw through him and left? What if he single-handedly fucked up the future of his kingdom because he couldn’t keep it in his pants? What if Akaashi started hating him? What if his parents started hating him? What if  _ everybody _ started hating him? What then?

Bokuto lifted the tent flaps and stepped inside.

He needed to take matters into his own hands.

Maybe he could use some advice after all.

By no means did Akaashi consider himself a fortune teller.

Divination had never been a serious thing for him, not serious like the way he treated other schools of magic. Not serious in the way that he had mapped out the night skies, tracing elaborate constellations across parchment with nothing but ink and his own two hands. Not serious in the way he used to carve intricate runes and sigil designs with an unnaturally steady hand into wood and ivory and stone that carried a purpose with them. Not serious in the way he had holed up in a magistrate’s room for weeks trying to figure out a way to lobby for more accommodating magical laws for the nature of his trade in other kingdoms.

No, divination had always been like a pastime of his. Nothing too intense or straining, plus he never really divined for himself. It wasn’t a common service that he offered at his shop, but he wouldn’t turn away a request from a customer if they asked for it specifically. 

It was something that he did in his free time—when there were no customers in the shop and nothing to inventory on the shelves and no potions to brew—a steady little thing to come back to when he found himself wandering, a sort of guilty pleasure even. It was a form of self-autonomy, a little grasp of power and knowledge that one wouldn’t otherwise have. It was prying the depths of one’s being and peeling back the superficial layers of the soul in the search for a deeper, more intimate understanding. Akaashi couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of knowledge, to taste  _ clarity _ .

He had lost count of the number of divinatory tools he collected during his travels—tarot and oracle decks, scrying mirrors, special teacups and brews, dream journals, runes, bones—but they always sat somewhere safe in the shop, wondering when he was ever going to use them again.

Akaashi did love the idea of divination, but there was always something better to do with his time. 

So, why was he sitting in a carnival tent with his crystal ball and his deck?

The wind picked up again outside, whistling against the walls and dancing its way through the tents. Even through the atmosphere of shrouded silence he had created for himself inside, Akaashi could hear the distant sounds of the carnival beckoning from its brilliant stronghold of light and warmth.

He thumbed a circle into his crystal ball, staring into its glassy depths.

Should he have accepted Bokuto’s invitation?

It had sounded awfully much like a date, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

If he was truly being honest with himself, he wasn’t doing this for the money. In fact, he hasn’t had a lot of customers come by. Fortune telling didn’t seem to be in popular demand during the winter festival, which made a lot of sense considering everyone was off on the snow ramps or stuffing their faces with food or playing games or fun things like that.

No, he was doing this because he didn’t have the stomach to face Bokuto tonight.

Akaashi sighed into his hands.

Looks like there won’t be much business tonight, after all. 

A chill crept in through the flaps.

Akaashi should really work on keeping the tent shut especially with all the wind outside— _ Oh. Fuck _ .

“Oh, hello! You scared me a little at first.”

_ It can’t be _ .

There lay a funny sense of déjà vu in the way that the prince shook the cold off his coat and stood there—lost and confused but determined; just like the first time that Akaashi had met Bokuto in his own shop. 

“You’re a fortune teller, right?”

“Yes,” Akaashi said dumbly, his voice shimmering.

“O-oh, a glamour,” Bokuto remarked, voice still bright and loud even through the cold. “I’ve seen those before.”

_ I’m sure you have _ , Akaashi mused. 

Bokuto seemed a little nervous, a little frazzled. He would always ramble more when he had something on his mind, a habit that Akaashi had noticed during their time together. Bokuto was someone who spoke his mind and was honest about any doubts that he had, but it was when he was holding something in that Akaashi knew it was something serious that was plaguing him. 

“Are you here to have your fortune told?”  _ Too late to turn him away now _ .

“Yeah! I’m not sure how it works though, but I need some advice for a problem that’s been bothering me for a while,” Bokuto admitted, following the fortune teller as they glided across the floor.

“No worries,” Akaashi said, settling down at the table and motioning for Bokuto to do the same. “I’ll explain the process.”

Bokuto stared at the plush seat like it was a foreign animal, tentatively settling down and folding his hands over his lap. His hair was still dotted with ice crystals, an awestruck tinge in his eyes even as he tried to calm his nerves.

“I will be scrying,” Akaashi began, tapping the crystal ball and allowing Bokuto to gaze into its midst. Then, he held up the deck of cards in his hand. “And I will be reading these tarot cards for you.”

“Scrying,” Bokuto echoed. “I’ve seen something like that before.”

“I can look into an issue, or the future if we’d like to be simple, using this reflective crystal ball,” Akaashi continued, willing himself to remain professional. “This one is made of clear quartz, a crystal for all occasions.”

Sensing the curiosity bubbling inside Bokuto, he gave him the go-ahead to lay a finger on the ball. It was an unpopular custom for divinators to let anyone else near their tools, but Akaashi found that it actually helped him more when he could feel the energy of his clients. He could already feel the familiar, warm pulsing of gold seeping into the quartz, thrumming with curiosity and a slight anxiety.

“Hmm,” he said.

“Do I just tell you my questions?” Bokuto asked softly, trying as hard as he could to be respectful.

Akaashi felt a little fuzzy inside.

“Yes, you can start with one first.” 

“Okay so,” Bokuto inhaled deeply. He clearly had a lot on his mind. “I have a lot to ask about and it’s about. And I’m not sure why I’m here, actually, but I have nobody to talk about this and I just thought hey maybe I could use some advice, but maybe now I just need a moment—”

_ “Trust me, Bokuto-san _ .”

Bokuto stopped.

“How do you know my name?”

Akaashi froze.

“Ahhh right, the whole magic and future-seeing stuff.” Bokuto slapped his own forehead, offering a wide grin. “I almost forgot!”

Akaashi sighed, his heart threatening to claw its way out of his chest.

“You must be really good at what you do.”

“You could say that,” Akaashi sighed again. “Question?”

“Right, right,” Bokuto said, feeling slightly more at ease now. “It’s about romance. Or love. I’m not sure.”

This line of work was not very good for Akaashi’s heart.

“I have a crush on someone,” Bokuto said simply.

Akaashi tilted his head, motioning for him to elaborate.

“Two people, actually.”

Okay, admittedly that was  _ not _ what Akaashi had expected to hear.

“Can your fortune telling tell me anything about how to choose?”

“Yes” Akaashi said, composing himself.

He was professional, he was courteous, he was respectful. No matter how loud his heart was thumping in his ears, he would see this reading through till the end. It was getting a little hot under his mask—a white opera-style mask that covered half his face—simple but elegant, a good way to ensure that his identity remained confidential. A great mage, reduced to a mere carnival fortune teller? That wouldn’t look good for his business.

Akaashi laid his fingers on his deck, an ornate set of cards that he had grew attached to when he had first started his curiosity shop venture. He was fond of the intricate imagery—lines and curves of gold foil etched into the sleek black surface—there was new meaning to be found and analyzed every time he drew from the deck. 

“Think of one of your...romantic interests,” he instructed.

Bokuto nodded, and closed his eyes. Which he didn’t need to do, but Akaashi found it strangely endearing anyway. 

He was extremely aware that he was staring now, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Bokuto’s face as he started shuffling through the cards; he was reaching and feeling and urging the right one to come to light.

An image started to swirl in the ball next to him, shedding the mist around it as it became clearer and clearer.

_ A white bird mask _ .

He flipped the card on top.

_ The High Priestess _ . 

Akaashi laid it to one side and fanned his cards out on the soft velvet cloth with practised ease.

Bokuto stared, entranced, as the fortune teller swept his fingers over the cards, as if reaching for some invisible force. It could be a very relaxing process to read tarot, but there was nothing relaxing about this at all. In fact, it was quite strange to be drawing cards about himself, technically, but he did make a vow to see this through.

He selected a card.

_ The Hierophant _ .

“Duty and tradition,” Akaashi said. “This is about honoring family tradition and being part of something larger than yourself. You feel a sense of duty and commitment attached to your feelings for this person.”

Bokuto gaped at him.

“How did you know that?”

“Fortune telling,” Akaashi said.

“Riiiiight,” Bokuto said, sitting straight up. 

Akaashi drew another card.

_ Seven of Cups _ . Interesting.

“Illusion, wishful thinking,” he hummed. “Are you feeling like this relationship might be too good to be true?”

“Yes,” Bokuto said decidedly, still in awe. “It’s like he came out of nowhere. Dropped out of the sky or something.”

“A balance of duty and desire,” Akaashi murmured, mainly to himself.

“Exactly!” Bokuto perked up. 

“Before we get to the advice, I’ll draw a signifier for the other one. You know what to do?”

Bokuto nodded obediently and thought hard.

Akaashi drew another card.

He stilled.

_ The Magician _ .

The crystal ball showed a double-edged moonstone ceremonial dagger.  _ His  _ double-edged moonstone ceremonial dagger.

_ Fuck _ .

Akaashi stilled his shaking hand as he drew another card.

_ Two of Cups _ .

“This is entirely unrelated to the duty, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“Yup,” Bokuto said, seemingly unaware of Akaashi’s inner turmoil.

“You like him.”

“I do,” Bokuto sighed, his hands reaching up to card through his hair. Another nervous habit of his that Akaashi had noticed. “I really do.”

Akaashi already knew the next card he was going to draw.

_ Two of swords _ .

“A dilemma,” he whispered, unsure of whether it was to himself or to Bokuto anymore. “You can’t choose.”

“How am I supposed to choose between my duty and my heart? Who do I owe my feelings to? Why now?” Bokuto looked close to tearing his hair out. “It’s killing me slowly and I’m not anywhere closer to figuring out what I should do next.”

To be fair, he  _ had _ made his dilemma clear from the start, but now that the truth was staring Akaashi in the face, no,  _ slapping _ him in the face, it was all the more serious. 

Bokuto liked Akaashi.

Bokuto liked Akaashi back.

All along Akaashi thought it was just a little harmless flirting. A light-hearted crush. Nothing too big and serious and genuine. 

Then again, nothing was not genuine when it came to Bokuto, and Akaashi should know that most of all.

But Bokuto also liked the masked man. Who was also Akaashi.

Why the hell was the universe so complicated?

“Do you have any advice?”

“One second,” Akaashi said, trying to catch his breath. It was getting awfully warm in here.

His fingers roved the pile of cards, searching desperately for an answer. 

He wasn’t drawing for just Bokuto anymore. He was drawing for himself too.

He needed to  _ know _ .

His hands were flying over the cards now, trying to identify the pulsing, any sliver of warmth, any jumpy feeling that could tell him that the answers lay right at his hands. That he was still in control of this situation. That he could still understand what the hell he had gotten himself into.

There was nothing.

The deck lay limp and uncertain.

“This has...never happened before,” Akaashi blinked.

“Really?” Bokuto scratched his head. “Guess my situation’s special, huh?”

“In more ways than one,” Akaashi mumbled, trying again.

He got nowhere.

“Can the cards at least tell me how they feel about me? Maybe if they like me back or something like that?”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” he hurried. “Something seems off about this whole matter and I don’t want to agitate, the universe or anything like that.”

Akaashi wanted to jump into a river.

He had never made such a  _ poor _ excuse in front of a customer before.

Then again, it was Bokuto, but somehow that was worse.

“Maybe there’s just no answer to this matter,” Bokuto considered. 

“Maybe” Akaashi echoed, incredulous.

“I’ll think about it,” Bokuto said. “This did clear up some things for me though.”

“It did?” Akaashi wanted to slap himself. Maybe if he actually did slap himself, he would wake up from this living fever dream at any moment. 

“Yeah!” Bokuto handed him the payment. “Thanks for your help.”

Akaashi barely held on to the money.

“You have a good night, fortune teller-san.” Bokuto stumbled off his seat and headed for the tent flaps. Even though he had no idea who Akaashi was, he was still bright and cheerful as ever. God, this man would be the death of Akaashi one day. “Maybe I was never supposed to know how they feel about me, that would be too easy, right?”

“Right,” Akaashi said dumbly.

“Take it easy, I hope your cards get better!”

And with that, Bokuto was gone.

Akaashi was left standing in the quiet of the tent, the silence deafening as the world raged on outside. He was alone now. Left to think. Left with questions he didn’t even know he had. 

_ But I like you too, Bokuto-san. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are only heating up from here
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	10. strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> viii. strength  
> | courage, persuasion, influence, control
> 
> The mage watches as the lion roars, calling out to a wild beast of his own inside him. The lion is a symbol of raw passion and desire, and taming this kind of animal instinct calls for resilience and courage in the face of the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bokuto totally just wants to look cool for akaashi, and kuroo but for kenma as well, but who can blame them really?  
> ft. potentially inaccurate swordfighting techniques

It was a miracle that they haven’t died of hypothermia yet.

The call of a goshawk rang out from the forests.

Bokuto laughed—a hearty sound—when Kuroo stumbled back on a patch of melted snow, nearly losing his grip and his dignity. 

“Fuck you too, bro.” Kuroo managed to save his pride, parrying a blow as he regained his footing. There was too little fabric clinging to his shoulders, the chill biting at his bones as he got back into a fighting stance.

“Better watch your step,” Bokuto grinned, advancing quicker forward with his sword as he used the little slip-up as a window to get ahead. He was using the sword that Kuroo had given him, the one with the silver hilt. As much pride as it took for Kuroo to admit it, the Nekoma blade looked better in Bokuto’s hand than anybody else’s.

“You’re just using _this_ ,” Kuroo gestured all around them at the snow and ice. “Against me. You know I’m not good with the cold.”

“Well, I’m not the one who decided to accept my challenge to duel out here,” Bokuto retorted with another shit-eating grin. 

Kuroo met his challenging stare with a determined leer of his own.

“You know I can’t back down from a fight.”

“When do you think they’ll be done?” Kenma asked, almost bored.

The sound of clashing metal rang out in the courtyard below.

It made Akaashi wonder just how common an occurrence it was for these two grown ass men to fight outdoors in the dead of winter.

“It happens more than I’d like to admit,” Kenma offered, as if reading his mind.

“Do you happen to be a psychic, by any chance?” Akaashi asked.

“No, although I have been asked that before,” Kenma chuckled drily.

“Hm,” Akaashi wondered. “You should consider the profession.”

They had a nice balcony view, closer to the welcoming comfort of the indoors rather than exposed to the elements like the two idiots standing in the courtyard were. They were barely wearing any layers, and Akaashi would have been severely concerned about their well-being if they weren’t currently lashing out at each other’s throats in the name of friendly competition. 

Bokuto was certainly gaining an edge over Kuroo with his ardent love of the cold. Akaashi had to admit that he looked strangely at ease while the rest of them were freezing their asses off. There was an easy smile on his face that should’ve clashed with the fire burning in his eyes, but it only served to make him look more at ease with the ridiculous duel he had started. 

The sword in his hand was made for him. There was fluidity in the way he swung his sword with a steady hand as he advanced towards Kuroo. Bokuto drove his blade closer in controlled and precise moves that were way too close for comfort, the sword whistling through the air as Kuroo dodged and blocked.

It wasn’t to say that the Nekoma prince was at a total disadvantage. Even with the slippery snow, he had a firm stance, the balls of his feet digging into the ground. Every time Bokuto came at him, he rebalanced himself easily, closing off his area of attack and really making Bokuto work for it. It was obvious that he knew exactly where to move in order to block Bokuto’s thrusts.

This was a side of Bokuto that Akaashi didn’t get to see often. There was something so determined and focused about this Bokuto that he couldn’t help but stare. Was it the fire blazing through his eyes, propelling him forward with a vigor? Was it the focused twist of his lips that only deepened as he continued his impressive swordfighting? Was it the slight furrow between his brows that lent a slightly comedic but also intimidating touch to his expression?

It was actually kind of hot.

Akaashi shook his head. Even then, he couldn’t help but remember.

 _Bokuto really liked him_.

Well, both of him. It was all a confusing predicament.

He sighed, earning a strange look from Kenma.

“You’re perky today,” Kuroo remarked with a knowing grin.

“You’re one to talk,” Bokuto retorted, grip firm as he pushed against Kuroo.

“Hey, s’nothing wrong with wanting to impress your crush,” Kuroo said, easily matching his strength and pushing back with his own sword. He managed a wink in Kenma’s direction, to which Bokuto groaned exaggeratedly.

Many of their best conversations happened when they were duelling. It was an easy exchange of shit-talking and insults and comebacks when they fought, in between breathless pants and the sound of clanging metal. Nothing strengthens a bond with your best bro like roasting the shit out of him when you’re trying to kill him. 

“Tsk,” Bokuto scoffed, coming up empty when he tried to reply to that.

“He’s looking~” Kuroo said in a sing-songy voice as he pulled off a particularly tough block. 

True to his word, Akaashi was staring down at him from the balcony that overlooked the courtyard. This time, his usually stony expression had eased up, a slight twinkle creeping into his eyes as he watched. Yet he also looked very far away, like there were many thoughts swimming through his head as he stared unbreakingly at Bokuto.

“Less talk, more sword.” Bokuto whirled away, coming back with a vengeance, bringing down his sword onto Kuroo’s own.

It was a tussle, but eventually Bokuto managed to overpower Kuroo, knocking the sword clean out his hand.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Good job,” Kuroo said genuinely. This time he didn’t try to make an excuse for the cold or for staring at Kenma lovingly in the heat of the fight. Bokuto had won fair and square, with his own strength, and Kuroo was not afraid to admit that sometimes Bokuto had what it took. 

“Thanks.” Bokuto grinned, back to his owlish self.

“Are you two done fooling around yet?” Kenma’s voice drifted down.

“Nope!” Bokuto answered on instinct. “It’s only morning.”

Kuroo didn’t get to visit very often, so every time he did, the two of them got up to ridiculous antics for an entire day or two, much to the kingdom’s chagrin. Kenma was usually along for the ride, but he rarely ever participated in the shenanigans. He was content to watch and roll his eyes from the side.

“You can do something else other than letting us all freeze to death in the cold, Bokuto-san.”

Kenma showed a hint of a smile at that.

“You didn’t have to come out to watch us!” Bokuto grinned cheekily. “But you did because you wanted, didn’t you?”

“...I’m not answering that,” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Admit it, you wanted to see these muscles in action.” Bokuto flexed, this time earning a snicker out of Kuroo and half a groan from Kenma.

Akaashi shook his head slowly, but there was a dusting of red across his face.

“What shall we do now?” Kuroo said conspiratorially. “We’ve only just begun.”

“How are you two princes?” Akaashi murmured.

“I ask myself that every time,” Kenma agreed.

“Ooh, ooh! I know,” Bokuto jumped up. “The lake’s froze over.”

“Here we go again…” Kuroo sighed.

“What?” Akaashi asked, wondering if he’ll regret it. “What does that mean?”

“Ice skating!” Bokuto whooped.

“Ice skating…” Kenma echoed, looking like he was regretting ever being born.

“I don’t know how to skate.”

All three of them turned to Akaashi. 

“...What?” Bokuto’s eyebrows had flew all the way up to his hairline.

“Is that so?” Kuroo asked, almost amused and looking like he was already planning something in his head.

Even Kenma looked vaguely surprised.

“I can’t skate,” Akaashi repeated. “I’ve never skated.”

“What do you mean?” Bokuto asked, genuinely baffled. “Even Kuroo can skate!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Kuroo huffed.

“This has to be changed,” Bokuto muttered to himself. “I’ll teach you how to skate!”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Bokuto-san.”

“It’ll be fun!” Bokuto exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Don’t you want to skate with us?”

The instant Akaashi looked into his eyes, he knew it was over.

“Fine, but if I fall it’s your fault.”

“You’re so not slick, bro.”

Kuroo turned to him as he was lacing up his skates by the lake. Kenma was helping Akaashi with his a short distance away, and Bokuto shushed Kuroo violently before the mage could hear them. 

“But I have to admit,” Kuroo started, watching Kenma stand up and falter on the ice. “This could be a good idea after all.”

Bokuto shook his head as Kuroo went off to help steady the love of his life. 

“Bokuto-san.”

“Yes, Akaashi?”

He was back to using Akaashi again, thank the stars. Maybe he had noticed how worked up Akaashi looked every time Bokuto used his given name.

“Would you mind getting to the part where you actually teach me?”

Akaashi looked nothing short of heavenly in ice skates, and Bokuto found his eyes trailing down the mage’s long, lithe legs. His cheeks were rosy, the winter air serving to make him look even more ethereal, like some sort of snow angel. He had swapped his robes for a tighter bodysuit, complete with some sort of shimmery and flowy fabric that trailed behind whenever he moved. 

“Maybe start with standing up first,” Bokuto chuckled, offering his hand.

“I’m sure I can do it on my own,” Akaashi said, pointedly ignoring his hand.

Wobbling precariously on the ice, he pushed off the floor in an attempt to stand in the skates. It was a valiant attempt—Bokuto would give him that—but the instant he straightened up, his legs gave way as his entire body threatened to tilt back on the ice.

“Woah, woah! Take it slow,” Bokuto exclaimed, running forward to catch Akaashi.

They stood for a second, Akaashi in Bokuto’s arms. Bokuto was too busy staring at how _close_ Akaashi’s face was to his to even notice that the red in Akaashi’s face had deepened.

 _This is nice._ Akaashi was very warm. Akaashi was also very pretty.

“Why don’t you actually skate instead of staring lovingly into each other’s eyes?” Kuroo called out from a good distance away, already dragging Kenma to the center of the frozen lake.

Coughing, Bokuto helped Akaashi get to his feet.

“Don’t lean back too much,” he advised, his cheeks suddenly a lot warmer than before. “You’ll fall backwards before you even start moving.”

Akaashi took his advice, looking very much out of his element here.

“How do I move?”

“You know what?” Abandoning all and any semblance of embarrassment to the wind, Bokuto stuck out his hand. This time, he grabbed Akaashi’s one, pulling him gently along as he skated out onto the ice—his grip firm and grounding.

“Just follow my rhythm,” Bokuto said, trying to slow down on his own skates.

The lake was gorgeous in the dead of winter. There was white everywhere, and the slippery smooth surface of the ice looked exquisite in the sunlight. There was nobody else around, and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue—a blue so light that it was almost white, but with the delicate breath of winter on its thin, wispy clouds.

Taking a shaky breath, Akaashi tried to match the gliding pace that Bokuto had set. Slow and steady. He could do this. How much more difficult could ice skating be than casting a spell, or catching a star?

It was strange seeing the mage trying to learn something new and actually struggle with it, but Bokuto was totally entranced. Even without the usual stoic stone in his eyes and the sure and composed movements of grace, Akaashi was easily still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. However, Bokuto couldn’t say that he wasn’t terribly amused at how clueless Akaashi seemed to be about ice skating.

“So, you’ve never skated before?” Bokuto leaned in.

“No,” Akaashi bit out, nearly slipping.

“Why not?”

Akaashi was clearly incredulous at the fact that Bokuto was trying to talk to him while he was trying to avoid an icy death, but he indulged his question anyway.

“I’ve never got a chance to, Bokuto-san.”

“But, but, but, you’ve traveled the world!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Surely you’ve seen many winters and many frozen lakes.”

It was true. 

“I didn’t exactly go and try to learn it, though,” Akaashi replied. “Too busy.”

It was partially the truth. He had never stayed long enough in one kingdom when it was snowing, especially none quite like Fukurodani. All the other kingdoms retreated into themselves and everybody holed up when it got cold out, which was bad for business. He usually left and moved on at the first sign of snow. Fukurodani, on the other hand, was booming with wintertime business.

Yet if he was to tell the truth, Akaashi was scared of the ice. He was _terrified_ of the smooth, frozen facade of a frozen lake; it was only hiding the dark, freezing depths of the water below and the isolation it held if he were to slip through the ice. The ice would probably preserve every single iota of fear and helplessness, immortalizing his body in a freeze frame, never to be found again. He would be all alone down there, but perfect and trapped with no hope of escape—not even through decomposition. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Bokuto pouted. “Never too busy to learn new things.”

“I supposed you’ve got a fair point,” Akaashi said, swallowing the fear. He had given up completely trying to resist Bokuto’s insistence on close physical proximity. If this was how he died, so be it.

Try as he might to resist the prince’s charms, he was still mortal after all.

Hand in hand, they skated closer to Kuroo and Kenma.

“Hey, you guys are finally here,” Kuroo grinned.

He too was holding Kenma’s hand. Nekoma’s snows never froze over their lakes enough to skate, so skating was always a rare treat for the duo when they visited Fukurodani in the winter. Kuroo was admittedly a natural at it, his balance steady and his movements sure, but he was rusty. Kenma was a little more hesitant, claiming that skating wasn’t his thing, but he much enjoyed a nice, leisurely skate across the ice.

Kuroo was only happy to indulge that fact, the two of them making a slow and chill round around the lake, linking hands and talking.

“You’re getting better at it,” Kenma remarked, pointing at Akaashi’s stance.

“I doubt so,” Akaashi murmured, trying not to shake. 

“You can always lean on Bokuto,” Kuroo suggested with a knowing look and a shit-eating grin. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi shot him a pointed look.

“Yeah! He’s got me.” Bokuto’s grin only widened.

Kenma shook his head and skated off.

“Hey! Don’t leave me,” Kuroo yelped, following him.

Bokuto laughed.

The lake around them was frozen silent, their breaths coming out in misty spurts.

They went for a few more slow rounds around the ice—Bokuto pointing out a few tips and tricks—before Akaashi was finally ready to try it on his own. As much as he loved holding Bokuto’s hand, he had to get _somewhere_ eventually.

Taking a tentative breath, he let go of Bokuto’s hand.

“Yes!” Bokuto whooped.

Akaashi was doing it. He was _skating_.

It was nice to not feel like he had to be perfect all the time. When you had nobody to lean on, you had to be your best self all the time. To be capable and competent so nobody had any room to question you. Akaashi was an expert at holding up such a stance, and he prided himself in his competence, in all his abilities and learned skills. He liked the game, but it got tiring on bad days, and sometimes he just wanted to let loose and live.

 _This_ was living. This was what he needed. It felt like he was finally breathing—even when he was shaking terribly and about to spill over on the ice—but it felt like he was letting go. Peeling back the intricately composed layers of thought and appearance of the celestial mage role, and feeling a warmth inside him take flight in the cold, dead heart of winter. 

Bokuto was smiling at him. 

Akaashi felt a twinge in his heart.

There was so much more about Bokuto he had yet to learn and love. 

But he had never stayed before. Akaashi had never stayed in one place long enough to let himself feel something like this. He could always stop it, always cut it off, block it out. Yet this time he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

How was he supposed to live like this? How was he supposed to move on now?

“You’re doing so great!” Bokuto affirmed, twirling across the ice.

It was a magnificent sight. Akaashi had already seen some of the grace that the burly prince possessed on the dance floor, and that same grace carried over to the ice. Bokuto was steady and certain with his every move, as if he was born to move on the ice. His face lit up with a golden glow even in the bone-chilling cold, a beautiful smile with teeth as white as the snow.

“Thank you,” Akaashi called back. “But I’m still quite stuck.”

Kenma flashed him a thumbs-up from the sidelines. He had decided to take a self-sanctioned break, and Kuroo was trying to urge him to get back up.

“Hey, Kuroo.”

“Yes?” Kuroo turned around, knowing glint in his eyes.

“Race you to the edge of the lake,” Bokuto declared, eyes hardening and competitive spirit firing up.

“Oh, you’re _on_.”

As the two of them whizzed across the ice, laughing and shoving and yelling into the abyss, Akaashi sighed. This was nice. This was comfortable. This was kind of fun. Maybe, just _maybe_ he was enjoying himself. It’s been a while since he had so much fun doing something completely out of his comfort zone.

In the end, Bokuto had won by a nose, and together they skated back to Akaashi and Kenma. There was a dejected admission of defeat written across Kuroo’s face.

“I won fair and square,” Bokuto said. “That’s twice already today. You’re losing your touch.”

“Hey, I’ll get you back next time,” Kuroo retorted. “But for now…”

He collapsed easily into Kenma’s arms, nuzzling his face into his neck.

“There they go again,” Bokuto sighed to Akaashi.

Akaashi nodded, wondering briefly what Bokuto would smell like if he nuzzled his neck into Bokuto’s own. He sat down next to Kenma and started to undo his skates.

“There’s always next year,” Kuroo said. “I’ll get ya next year.”

“Next year, ha!” Bokuto laughed. “You never get me any year.”

It was true. Kuroo had never been better than Bokuto at ice-skating. He didn’t live in the cold. 

“Kenma and Akaashi can join us next year,” Bokuto continued, still smiling. “So maybe you won’t be the slowest one next time.”

Kuroo made a face at him.

“Next year?” Akaashi furrowed his brow. 

“Yeah!” Bokuto looked at him, the excitement obvious in his eyes. “We’re gonna see so many more things next year in the winter.”

Would Akaashi even be around next year? It was highly unlikely. He had to think about his shop, about the prospect of a travelling life, about seeing the world. He had to think about his heart, could he really stand to stay in one place and have the universe let him down eventually? Could he do any of that?

Akaashi was sure the answer was no.

“We can go see the floating lights,” Bokuto started. 

“Kenma loves the floating lights, right?” Kuroo laughed.

“Only at night, and if I can have mochi to eat.” Kenma nodded slowly.

The three of them talked about the future like it was easy. Like it was a given. Like it was always going to be the same, like _they_ were always going to be the same. They had smiles on their faces and hope in their eyes and a home to go back to and kingdoms under their feet and in their hearts. They had everything that Akaashi could never understand.

The matter of the fact is, he wasn’t sure if he’d still be the same a year later. He was used to changing, to accustoming himself to prefer certain things over the next with time, to priming himself for getting tired of his favorite things. He didn’t know if everything would be okay if he ever stayed in one place long enough. He didn’t really want to find out.

They were still laughing away.

“Excuse me,” Akaashi murmured, getting up.

He had to get away from this place.

He couldn’t stay. 

He could _never_ stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi needs a hug. from Bokuto specifically
> 
> anywaaaay I have finals right now for the next two weeks so you won't be hearing from me until then, but hopefully once it's all over my updating schedule will be much more regular and consistent. I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in this, like Invested™ level interested, but so far a couple of you have been hanging on in the comments section and I totally appreciate that. if you find yourself invested like me, leave a comment, it'll probably encourage me to write faster and know that I will be thinking about your comments for a long while. 
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	11. the hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ix. the hermit  
> | solitude, soul-searching, contemplation, introspection
> 
> The Hermit stands alone on the top of a mountain. The snow-capped range symbolizes his spiritual mastery, growth, and accomplishment. He was the one who chose this path of self-discovery and, as a result, has reached a heightened state of power, awareness, and control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *plonks hints of a tragic backstory* no, I'm not projecting

It’s been a week since Akaashi last saw Bokuto.

He had been avoiding the castle and avoiding the shop when he was in his own skin and not behind the mask, desperate to avoid any form of confrontation with the prince—who was no doubt looking for answers. He wouldn’t get any even if he asked, for Akaashi wanted answers for himself too.

It wasn’t as if Bokuto was pressing him for any, though. Never once had the exuberant prince overstepped his stay when he came to visit his masked suitor, nor had he extended more than a cursory inquiry into his identity. And for that, Akaashi was glad. But also slightly disappointed that he didn’t have more of a reason to just give up the act and reveal himself. 

Wouldn’t that be such a simple solution to his problem? Hell, it would even be a good solution to Bokuto’s problem. Akaashi the mage and the mysterious masked man were one and the same? It was like the answer was right before his eyes, simple but deceptively so. 

Things weren’t always as they seemed. 

When he first came to Fukurodani, he wasn’t expecting to find a home here. He had made peace with the fact that it would be just like all the other kingdoms and settlements he had chanced upon—a fleeting stop instead of a final destination. A mere point of time before he embarked on his ceaseless journey once again. 

But it wasn’t his place to stay. It wasn’t his call, it wasn’t his choice. A mage as powerful as him could never belong in a kingdom like Fukurodani. That same power was only going to be the death of the kingdom one day, just like it had been before. 

What was he thinking? Why was he trying to believe in a lie? Why was he trying to be someone he was not? Did he really think that the mask could hide his true desires, and could turn him into someone else? Did he think it could turn him into someone who didn’t bring destruction everywhere their heart went?

It was a lapse of judgment on his own part. He had simply fallen for that easy smile, seen a ray of sunlight peeking through the dark clouds of his past. Someone whose voice soothed the aching beating of his lonely heart. A loneliness he had grown to love and accept over the course of his long travels. But now, the warmth that filled his days only served to remind him of that same loneliness—once comfortable and simple, now distant and stark.

Even if he could fight his thoughts and accept that Bokuto actually liked him beyond a simple crush, how could he forget the last time he decided to put his true feelings first? It was the very reason he started travelling in the first place. It had been so long, but he never forgot. He could never forget. 

Akaashi couldn’t fall in love. He couldn’t fall in love again. 

He would not let his feelings hurt again. 

The kingdom had fallen into a deep slumber, the sky a shade of deep blue that yielded a field of pretty stars up above. 

Akaashi took a deep breath, the frosty air stripping the sleep from his mind and filling him up with a stark vigor to continue onwards with his task. He treaded up to the peak, a slow ascent that he had to make by himself in the dead of night. It was quiet save for the howling of the winter wind nipping at his heels. Nobody but him around. The perfect time to think and mull over the events of the past months. 

In his right hand he held a lantern that glowed a soft but brilliant blue, illuminating the next few steps he had to take. The ground was rocky and uncertain, but he was careful with where he was stepping. He could only see a few meters ahead of him at any one time, but he wasn’t afraid of the dark, nor was he afraid of heights. This wasn’t the first time he had been up here alone.

In his left rested his dagger, the moonstone smooth and cold against his palm. He could feel his own energy humming through the blade, lying in wait but very much alive and powerful. It had taken him long to learn how to control his own power, but now he could finally say that he was in charge of his own magic.

“Hello,” he said, an echo ringing through the sky as he greeted the stars. It would be rude to not offer the universe a greeting, at least. A simple hello and a thank you could be the key to taking what one needed from the world. 

He set down his lantern and pulled out a few tiny vials from his robes. All he needed tonight was a small amount of starlight. A tiny pinch of stardust. Nothing too hefty, nothing that would upset the balance of anything.

Uncorking a vial, he looked up towards the stars. This was his favorite part.

Taking a deep breath, he let the energy flow through his veins and surround his very being. It was a soothing balm enveloping him, like a respite away from the world down below and the trials of courtly life and the toil of work. This was his magic, and he was free to do whatever he wanted with it up here.

He almost felt like he could just spread his wings and fly. If he could, he would soar up into the night sky, searching for a star that would take him and he could take back with him. He would be a bird among stars, wandering and flitting and swooping through the brilliance beheld in these celestial bodies that humans could never seek to understand. 

Eyes held skyward, Akaashi searched for the star that would give him what he was looking for. The map of constellations stared back right down at him, and it made him feel so small to be looking up at the world he wished he could be a part of. As the energy beamed through his limbs and ran through his core, he knew that he was in a way part of it. He was connected to it, no matter how far from it he could feel sometimes.

There. That one. 

No, it wasn’t the biggest, nor was it the brightest. In fact, it was one amongst thousands, millions, billions, trillions—god knew how many stars were out there in the vast open.

But it was the star he was looking for.

Akaashi felt it build, the surge of power inside him as it blossomed and swelled, rising out of his being and extending towards the night sky. He could feel the call of the star getting stronger and stronger, the celestial energy up there reaching and grappling for his own, ready to bridge the gap. It was potent, brimming with an otherworldly glory that Akaashi would never be tired of in his journey.

And journey he did. All those years wandering the face of the earth alone had gifted him with the patience and willpower to learn and grow, to seek knowledge where nobody else tried, and to find magic in the cosmos beyond the surface of the known world. He had retreated into blissful solitude—a hard journey at first—but one that he had come to love. 

Instead of fighting his past, he had spent his time learning and loving the world that he found beyond the borders of a kingdom. Of a home. There was so much to see, and he wasn’t even anywhere near done with his exploration. 

It didn’t help him forget, no. Nothing would ever make him forget. In fact, he didn’t want to forget. Emotion like that stayed with you for a lifetime. The entire spectrum was a whirlwind through his memories: yearning, rage, regret, passion, adoration, happiness, melancholy, uncertainty,  _ love _ . No, he didn’t want to forget it, but he wouldn’t let it stop him from becoming the best he could be either.

Akaashi would never call himself power-hungry. But he didn’t shy away from it, didn’t turn tail when the intensity of such ability and potential for both creation and destruction rose up and threatened to swallow him whole. It had taken him a long time to understand that he had to control his power, and not the other way around, but he had finally reached the point. He was finally in control.

But that control was slowly slipping away, his emotions vying to come back out full force and overtake every logical decision he had ever made. It was dangerous, too dangerous for both himself and everyone else. His magic was the most powerful when it was influenced by his emotional state. Only the heavens know what would happen the moment he lost control over both. 

The moment he decided to stay a little longer, the moment he put on the mask, the moment he  _ fell _ for Bokuto, he knew he was a goner. But he still stayed anyway. Was he that eager to let history repeat itself? Surely this time wouldn’t be any different. 

The star glowed brighter and brighter, blazing and burning as Akaashi’s energy mingled with its beautiful light. He was holding on tight, but the star was holding on tighter, as if once he let go it would pull him off his feet and suck him into its orbit, never to leave again. 

Maybe this time could be different. He was a different person now after all.

A star wasn’t hot, nor was it cold. It was both, blazing with an alluring intensity and a sheer potential like none other. Every star had a destiny, a place for it—high above everyone else. It could achieve great things, bring light upon the world, turn the tides and lead the way, but ultimately it could only stay in one place: the sky. What a lonely life that was, to be surrounded by so many others like oneself, shining and waiting. 

Akaashi laughed bitterly.

Bokuto-san had a place for him. Fukurodani was where he was meant to be, and Akaashi could never take that away from him. The prince had a different power, a  _ destiny _ , a home, a kingdom. It was the opposite of everything the mage had known for most of his life: freedom, choice, solitude. 

But Akaashi knew what he held near and dear too. 

_ Love _ . Genuine human connection. Sometimes that solitude turned into isolation. He was only human after all. He got lonely some days, and craved for warmth on others. But of course, he hadn’t thought he would ever need it so badly again. 

What was he going to do?

He knew he was never going to same again if he just left now.

He corked the vial. Distilled starlight was different. It was just as radiant and beautiful and powerful, but it was not up there in the sky. It was here on earth with him now, inside glass where it could be kept safe and untouched until he decided what he wanted to do with it. 

“Thank you.” Looking back up, Akaashi stared at the star that shone down at him, twinkling and sure.

That was enough thinking for a night.

Picking up his lantern, the lonely mage set off back down the mountain, a vial of starlight clutched tight to his chest. A lone figure treading through the night—he was the only source of light for miles around. 

_ The mage had finally found the star he had been looking for.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happened to Akaashi in the past? stick around to find out
> 
> I have grand plans for this story, and I'm starting to pick up the writing pace again now that my finals have ended. If you find yourself as enthralled as me by this plot, do stick around, drop a comment or two and buckle in for the wildest ride of your life. It's only going to get wilder from here.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	12. wheel of fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> x. wheel of fortune  
> | destiny, karmic cycles, turning point
> 
> The Wheel of Fortune never stops spinning, and things must come to an end in order to bring a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of winter, start of spring, a new cycle begins. what will our dear Bokuto do?

The morning light illuminated the slick roads, wet from the snowmelt left over from winter storms. Buds were starting to appear amidst quickly fading patches of white, the sparse branches covered with a fine dusting of green. Geese flew overhead, the tentative calling of birds piercing through the cool air, signalling the arrival of life and growth amidst the cold. 

Spring was on its way. 

Bokuto swung his legs over the bed. 

He was strangely awake today, the sleep purging from his system the instant the earthy smell of spring flowers and grass hit him in the lungs. Padding his way to his window, he drew aside the curtains, letting the rays of sunlight in and feeling the warmth of a thawing winter. He may be unusually fond of the cold, but that wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy the coming spring either. There was something so peaceful and comforting about seeing life sprout throughout the kingdom as it shook off the excitement and frenzy of winter and slipped into a calmer spring state. 

People were emerging from their houses, shrugging off the winter coats and clearing the snow from their doorsteps. There was a curious buzz in the air—a quiet one of curiosity and serenity, with none of the harsh thrill that winter brought with it. The city down below was shrouded in a beautiful light, the sun hitting different now that the roads weren’t covered in snow and the rooftops of houses were starting to show. The moment he leaned out of the window, he could feel the warmth seeping into his skin and the sun returning to the kingdom. 

He sighed in contentment.

Bokuto loved spring. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he loved spring as much as winter. He loved everything about spring—spring in the mountains, spring in the kingdom, spring with his family, and spring itself. It was the tender arrival of nature’s gifts coming back to the kingdoms; the buds and the trees and the grass and the birds and the animals returning to roam the lands. It was the thawing of winter, the cities settling down into peace as the farmers got ready to plant their seeds. It was the signalling of new beginnings, and the end of a cycle. 

The smell of frying chestnuts drifted in on the wind. The food stalls were opening for the spring. He could already taste the sweet and savoury blend of kuri and rice against his tongue, the chestnuts soft and flaky in his mouth. His mouth was watering at the fragrant thought of kinoko soup—the shiitake, enoki, and oyster mushrooms swirling around in a flavourful soup with scallions and sliced fish. His stomach growled in excitement.

Turning to the mountains in the distance, Bokuto thought of camping and flower viewing and all the activities he could do. The weather would finally be favorable for some camping, and he could pack a picnic lunch and some sake, maybe bring along somebody he could cuddle up and watch flowers with—

He could take Akaashi. 

No, he couldn’t take Akaashi.

Even though Akaashi had told him nothing of the sort, Bokuto was still convinced that the mage was angry at him in some way. His heart sank every time the memory of Akaashi storming offthe frozen pond replayed in his head, leaving him wondering what he had done wrong. Bokuto wasn’t really good with this kind of stuff—identifying emotions and talking about his own and figuring out any unspoken truths. He didn’t want Akaashi to feel angry or upset, but if time and space was what the mage needed, then time and space was what Bokuto would give him.

He really didn’t want to consider a possibility where Akaashi might hate him.

Bokuto really didn’t know what he was going to do about his feelings. He liked Akaashi, really _liked_ him, but he knew there was no way he could ever be honest about his true feelings. He had a suitor, he had a kingdom, and he had a lot of love for a mage who he could never be with.

Sighing, he leaned down on his hands and watched the sun crawl higher into the sky.

The whole kingdom was counting on him and he might have already let it down.

This was his kingdom. Fukurodani was his kingdom. And these were his people. 

He had to marry. He had to marry someone he didn’t know. Not once had he tried to figure out who the masked man was, and maybe that was where his problem lay. If he didn’t know the face behind the mask, then he could keep pretending that it was a certain pretty, raven-haired mage for as long as he liked. It made him feel better about it all, but it was getting him nowhere.

Bokuto didn’t want to rule without someone he loved and knew by his side.

But he wouldn’t trade the world for his crown either. Being king had been his life-long dream, a bright future that he always knew would come for him and he would welcome with open arms. He wanted to be king, he wanted it so bad. This was his kingdom, and by the gods above and the lands below he was going to make sure that Fukurodani rose to the top and prospered under his reign. He would use the power for good, to make a change and lead. To inspire and heal. To love. 

As he looked down upon the kingdom, a cozy warmth flooded his chest. 

Maybe he could do it. He had all his friends, he had Kuroo and Kenma, and he had _Akaashi_. They would still be around, even if he had ascended to the throne and secured his place in the world. They would be there with him, right by his side as he ruled. The thought of it comforted him.

As long as he had them, he could do this. He could rise up to the occasion. He could take the crown for his kingdom. Even if it hurt his heart to know that he could never be with the one he really loved. 

With a sad smile on his face, he turned away from the window.

Bokuto was going to be king.

“Do you like chestnuts?”

The masked man turned to him with a curious glint in his eyes.

“Depends on how it’s cooked.”

“You should try this then!” Bokuto held out the bowl, rice steaming and fresh from the pot. 

They were standing in the town square, bursts of color exploding across the kingdom as everybody started rolling out the stalls and pulling down banners and putting out signs. There was a curious mixture of smells and sounds in the air, luring all the townspeople out of their houses and into the streets, ready to greet the new day.

With a slight hesitation, the masked man took the bowl from his hands. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a shiver through Bokuto’s body. He watched as the man lifted the spoon to his lips, delicate and gently, sampling the _kuri gohan_. Chestnut rice was one of the best dishes Fukurodani had to offer after the winter. Bokuto had been craving hearty meals ever since the temperature started climbing higher and the snow started melting away, and chestnut rice was the perfect dish to satisfy his hunger. 

“Not bad,” the masked man said. Bokuto could tell he was smiling even through the glamour, although his expressions were still very much colored with hesitation. He was still wearing the white mask today, just like every other day. “Very fragrant.”

“Right?” Bokuto beamed. “I have it every year after winter! Really soothes the soul.”

He still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act around the masked man. One moment they were having a heated make-out session and the next it felt like they had barely just met all over again. At least his plan to get to know the masked man was going great. He was being real sneaky about it and everything, no coming on too strong or any forward questions here, just some good old fun and a romp around the kingdom. Just getting to figure out the little things through little gestures.Nothing too obvious. 

“Mmhm,” the masked man replied.

He sighed inwardly. Bokuto was being way too obvious about trying to get to know him. 

This was their first time together outside of the castle, without the eyes everywhere and the strict rules of the court to adhere to. Bokuto was excited. There was so much they could do, so much they could see, and they were just getting started.

He really did want to get to know the masked man, even if he couldn’t see his face yet or find out his true identity. It wasn’t about the status or the name, he really cared more about who this man was a person. Bokuto wanted to know what made him tick, what made him passionate, all his fears and dreams and hopes and quirks—and everything else in between. If he was going to marry the man, he wanted to know _everything_ , and he was ready to open up too. 

“Do you like flowers, then?” he asked.

“Only the pretty ones.” the masked man smiled.

“You’re in luck.” Bokuto grinned. 

He took the masked man’s hand in his and pulled him across the street to a little row of flower stands. The selection wasn’t too extensive yet—spring had only just started after all—but there was already a fairly impressive range of beautiful blooms to choose from. The delightful floral scents wafted by, tickling Bokuto’s nose as he searched for the perfect flower for a beautiful man.

“ _Shizuoka_ ,” the masked man spoke up. “Hydrangeas.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened as he watched the man float over to the purple flowers, stroking the circular arrangement of blue and purple petals. Porcelain skin against the color of the ocean and the violet of a winter sky. If beauty could be epitomized, here it was, staring him right in the eye. God, he was a weak, _weak_ man. And for someone he didn’t even know. His emotions were running wild, a whirlwind of warmth so confusing when it rushed up into his hesitation and feelings for someone else. It made his stomach churn—in a good or bad way? He did not know.

“Are you familiar with flower language?”

Bokuto blanched. He wasn’t expecting to be the one answering any questions.

“Not really…but I’m interested!”

“Hydrangeas symbolize gratitude, grace, and beauty,” the masked man explained, a ghost of amusement in his voice, wavering through the glamour. “They’re one of my favorite flowers.”

Bokuto nodded, his eyes entranced as the man turned to face him.

All he could see was _Akaashi_. Akaashi’s graceful movements, the fluid motions of his arms and legs as he moved, it was all right there. It was so easy to pretend that it was him behind the mask, and not a stranger behind a mask.

“They suit you.” That was all he could hope to say, his head spinning. All he could smell were the hydrangeas, fragrance strong but not overpowering. 

The masked man was still staring at him.

More specifically, he was staring at Bokuto’s _lips_.

Bokuto felt like he might just combust in the next second. Or fall and melt into the ground. Whichever happened first.

“Indeed,” the man said, turning back around and offering Bokuto a narrow escape from death. “I’ve never seen such beautiful varieties.”

“That’s Fukurodani’s flowers for you,” Bokuto said, his chest flushing with pride. “They’re picked at the first sign of spring.”

“You sound very fond of your kingdom,” the masked man remarked.

If it was anyone else who said that, Bokuto would probably be offended. Yet, the way his suitor said it was _different_. As if it was a realization, as if he had just come to terms with it. Bokuto might even dare say that there was a touch of reverence in his words. 

“I am,” Bokuto said. “I really am.”

The masked man nodded, silent.

“I’m going to be king,” Bokuto said, his words heavy but sure. 

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Bokuto nodded.

“My lifelong dream.”

“Is there anything else you want?” The masked man’s voice was… _curiously_ sad.

Bokuto looked up slowly, meeting the masked gaze. There was a piercing intensity in the man’s eyes, but they were obscured by the mask that he so wished he could slip off and finally see the face behind it. He must be prettier without his mask on. _Who are you_? He was attracted to this mysterious stranger, but could he really say he was in love?

“Yes,” he said, longing in his eyes.

No, his heart belonged to someone else.

An awkward silence hung between them when Bokuto didn’t elaborate.

The hydrangeas were beautiful in the morning light. 

“Hey,” Bokuto broke the silence. “I have an idea.”

The masked man looked up at him, interest piqued.

“I know someplace we can go.”

The crown of dark grey peaks in the back towered over the rolling fields of green and the explosions of color that greeted them as they hiked upwards. The mountain air was fresh, the crisp and sharp taste of frost replaced by the light floral scents of the spring. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, and the whole place so picturesque it could’ve been a painting.

“Flower viewing?” Bokuto could’ve sworn he saw the masked man smile. 

“I love it,” Bokuto gushed. “The mountains are always so pretty when spring rolls around and usually I just come up here alone, but I thought I’d bring you this time since y’know.”

_Since we’re getting married and all_.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” the masked man said. “You’re very, hm.”

“Very what? Sappy? I know,” Bokuto chuckled. “Everyone says that.”

“I was going to say _remarkable_ , but that too,” the masked man returned easily.

“Remarkable?” Bokuto paused, blinking owlishly. He had only ever heard one person call him remarkable, and that person was _Akaashi_. It was as if the universe was actually trying to make this hard for him. “Thanks.”

“It’s true.”

Walking forward a few steps, the masked man drank in the scenery. There was an easy lightness in his steps, like he was floating instead of walking. The white cloth bundled around his torso and cinched in at his waist lent him an angelic touch, and Bokuto had to take a moment to himself. What was it with him and being blinded by the angelic beauty of men?

“Why do you like flowers?” Bokuto asked. The moment the question sprung forth from his mouth, he wondered if the masked man would think it stupid.

“They’re ephemeral,” the masked man answered. If he thought it was a stupid question, he showed no sign of it, and for that Bokuto was grateful. “Flowers are beautiful, but they’re only temporal. They don’t last forever.”

Bokuto tilted his head in confusion.

“I see myself in them,” the masked man continued, slightly hesitant now. “I’ve never really stayed in one place for too long.”

He looked off into the distance at the jagged peaks, a wistful look in his eyes. The glamour flickered, and Bokuto wondered how much effort it took to maintain the illusion all the time. Wasn’t it tiring? Wasn’t it too stressful to have to hide? 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the prince asked. He didn’t really understand how the temporal nature of flowers made them likeable, but he liked it. He liked the answer he was given. 

Bokuto liked flowers because they were pretty, but resilient. Blooming right after the harsh snows, blooming in crevices of rock high up, blooming in whatever small square of soil they could find along the paths. The beauty was only hiding the true determination underneath, and truth be told, they reminded him of Akaashi. The mage who made a life for himself against all odds. Bokuto didn’t know too much about Akaashi, but from what the mage had told him, he could tell that he had been through a lot. And by god was he _beautiful_.

“No,” the masked man answered truthfully, but offered no further explanation. 

They stood in silence, more comfortable this time. Before he knew it, Bokuto reached out for the masked man’s hand. His skin tingled where the man’s fingers brushed the inside of his wrist. The world melted away around them. It was like time had stopped around time, leaving them wrapped int his cozy little moment together. In some way, it was comforting, the way they were both here. Two hearts beating side by side, even if neither of them really knew anything about each other. A unification of the unfamiliar, but a promise that rang true. 

If Bokuto were to think about it—which he didn’t really want to but couldn’t help but think anyway—the masked man wasn’t all too different from Akaashi. They were both graceful, tall, lean, and so beautifully cold and uncaring that Bokuto could almost understand how he had fallen for the both of them at once.

He wasn’t Akaashi, but Bokuto could keep pretending.

He could keep pretending for his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me so long to write and honestly it's still kind of subpar but I'm pretty content with the intent I put into it and the place this chapter has in my story.
> 
> thanks for sticking around and reading y'all.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	13. justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xi. justice  
> | fairness, rigor, truth, reason, law
> 
> The figure of Justice sits in a neatly-draped white cloak between two pillars—one of truth, the other obscurity—two to symbolize balance and fairness. It holds a double-edged sword in the right hand, ready to fall on a firm and final decision. In the left hand, it holds scales, balancing intuition and logic in the pursuit of truth. When you face Justice, you are being called to account for your actions and will be judged accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> great news! I am regaining my rhythm writing this story, and I would love to thank a few of you out there for coming back for more every chapter and leaving comments that I read time and time again, you know who you are

“Bokuto-san, it would be wise to pay attention to this part.”

“I’m trying,” Bokuto said, pouting into his hand.

The meeting was far from over, and the court was only starting to get into the disccusion of alliances and possible conflicts with other kingdoms. It would seem that the spring had brought with it a boom in the number of trade routes opening up into Fukurodani from other lands, delivering news of kingdoms from further across the sea and a potential conflict of interests. It was time for them to re-evaluate their alliances, and scope out potential enemies on the horizon.

Akaashi was quickly becoming familiar with the ways of the royal court and its proceedings, as well as the collection of mannerisms and expressions exhibited by the people present. He could read between the lines and gauge what needed to be said, or what needed to be left unsaid, and with this knowledge he found himself quite caught up in the threads spun by the ruling parties of the kingdom when they came together. 

Unfortunately, Bokuto couldn’t find himself saying the same. Try as he might, the court meetings did nothing for his diminishing attention span. He was a leader by example, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit at a table and talk about something he would much rather get out there and see for himself for hours on end.

“Nekoma and Karasuno are our allies,” Yamiji began. “But that may not remain the truth for very long.”

Everyone was listening in anticipation.

“ _ War is coming _ .”

The advisor’s words sent a chill through the room, echoing off the high ceiling and heavy as the dark stone table set into the center of the room. Furtive glances darted about, as if everyone was suddenly afraid to look each other in the eye for too long—who could you trust when you couldn’t even turn to the ones who lent you aid in dire times? The alliance with Karasuno may have been a calculated risk, but Fukurodani’s ties to Nekoma went way back. The two kingdoms had a rich and diverse history despite their various grievances, and they had lent strength to each other and rose up on top as the most powerful kingdoms in the known vicinity.

Now, there were other powers on the rise. Kingdoms that were closing in from the North, South, East, and West. Kingdoms like Shiratorizawa, Inarizaki, Nohebi, Kamomedai—some past allies and some strangers, all posing concerns to Fukurodani and its allies. Entire civilizations that have found a way to conquer new lands, including the one that Fukurodani stood on. These kingdoms could close off the most important trade routes, cut off all the supplies, ruin Fukurodani’s economy and drive them out. Their people could suffer, their crops could die, and they could fall from grace. 

Fukurodani had to fight back.

And they had no idea if Nekoma would be behind them this time. Not when they had their own battles to fight. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Nekoma chose to desert their alliance with Fukurodani if it meant securing their own survival and staying on top. 

“Nekoma has not made any advances upon this threat you speak about,” Konoha pointed out. “How do we know when to—”

He stilled.

“—rescind our formalities?”  _ Turn our backs on them _ .

“I’m afraid the time is nigh,” Yamiji replied solemnly. “It’s best we start now.”

Konoha sunk lower in his seat, but he nodded dutifully.

Akaashi did not miss the flicker of emotion in the duke’s eyes. Konoha had always been the one backing up the hard choices the court had to make. He was the perfect balance of emotion and logic, a steadfast buoy in the ocean of difficult decisions. A jack of all trades, they called him. The man you wanted in the room for every decision.

The air was heavy, weighted with a looming sense of dread.

The talk about Nekoma and Karasuno had caught Bokuto’s attention, and he had grew silent as well. However, Akaashi could feel the quickly spiralling sense of woe quickly building in the prince’s chest. Bokuto often let his emotions eat him up and swallow him whole until he was wallowing in the depths of his own despair, especially when it came to the people he loved.

Every eye in the room was sizing up their prince, trying to determine if he was going to tip over the edge, spurred on by his own whirlwind of feelings. Everyone knew that Bokuto’s closest friends and acquaintances were rooted in Nekoma and Karasuno; there was Kuroo and Kenma, and the eager little knight Hinata. He was fond of them, and to ask him to put his strong bonds and friendships aside was painful.

“What about Karasuno?” Komi spoke up, drawing the attention away from Bokuto. He flashed a look at Akaashi, to which the mage nodded gratefully in response with.

As the room fired up again, he turned to the troubled prince.

“Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi’s voice shook Bokuto out of his stupor.

“What’s on your mind?”

“We’ve always been competitive,” Bokuto said, a sad and wistful look in his eyes. “Kuroo and I. You’ve seen it, our swordfights, our races, all of it.”

Akaashi nodded. The sheer amount of passion and effort the two of them dedicated to their pointless bets and friendly competition was frankly beyond him, but impressive nonetheless.

“We used to train together as kids,” Bokuto reminisced. “He taught me how to block all the tricky angles and what footwork to use, and I gave him advice about grip and swing.”

He looked far away, lost in a distant memory that Akaashi couldn’t see. Seeing the small smile at the corner of Bokuto’s lips, Akaashi wished he could.

“We’re both really good with a sword, but we’d never be this good were it not for all those duels and long hours in the stables messing around.”

Akaashi had never experienced a friendship as strong as the one that Bokuto and Kuroo shared, but getting to witness it? He felt like he was being shown a glimpse of a world that wasn’t his, but a world so beautiful and warm and joyous that he was glad he got to see it. They had an undeniable bond. He could only imagine how hard it must be for Bokuto, knowing that he would most likely have to face his friend in battle.

“They’ll show us no mercy if we have to fight,” Bokuto declared, his voice solemn. “Nekoma is precise, they don’t give up and they know it.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened a little at his sudden serious tone. 

“But we won’t give up either,” the prince said, a fire blazing brighter in his eyes. “We’re Fukurodani. We’re powerful, and we have what it takes to face up to what’s coming.”

“Aren’t you afraid of having to fight your friend?”

“I’m not afraid of losing our friendship,” Bokuto admitted with a sad chuckle. “I have faith in us, we’d probably get through it fine and laugh about it at the end. It’s just, it’s really hard, knowing that not everyone will get what they want and someone’s going to have to sacrifice something in the end. Even if we’ll be okay again.”

Akaashi was stunned. He had always known Bokuto was a layered character, but he was starting to really understand the emotional complexity that lay beneath the surface, the fun-loving smile and the hearty laughter that made Bokuto Bokuto. There was so much that he could learn from the prince, and so much he had yet to understand. They were so different, but in the best way.

Maybe that’s why he fell in love with the man.

“That’s...amazing, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto looked up at him with a smile.

“Thanks for listening, Akaashi.”

The mage could do nothing but nod and bow.

With that, the prince turned to his court and called for attention.

“Listen up.”

It wasn’t hard to see why Bokuto made a good ruler. His presence commanded attention, he was bright and bold and loud, and there was a certain aura of passion and sheer determination emanating from his being that everyone was drawn to. He believed that he could be the best, and he brought that energy with him in whatever he did or said. He could make people believe that they could be the best too, and  _ wanted _ to be the best. He could turn heads with his smile and lead armies with his voice. He was at the forefront of the action, truly leading by example. It was magnificent. 

“We will all have to march into battle soon,” Bokuto announced. “It is only a matter of time before they come storming our gates and trying to take our glory from us. We have allies, and we have enemies, and when we don’t know who we can trust, we will fight for ourselves. We will fight for our people, for the kingdom, for our land.”

There was a small smile on the royal advisor’s face. 

“We do not back down.” Bokuto was firm with his words. “I may not be the best with speeches or speaking or diplomacy or all the things a leader should be good at, but I know how to do one thing, and that’s  _ fight _ . Trust that I’ll fight for this kingdom with my life and all my strength, and I will fight for all of you too.”

“Now that’s the Bokuto we know,” Konoha said, easing into a proud smile.

“If we go down, we go down fighting,” Bokuto declared, drawing his sword with a shing and lifting it into the air with one hand. “ _ Are you with me? _ ”

Cheers erupted around the room as people stood up to join their prince. 

“Well done, Bokuto.” Konoha came over and gave him a pat on the back. “Way to rally the troops.”

Even Yukie gave him the smallest of smiles, a knowing look in her eyes.

It was like a fire had rekindled, spirits renewed. The room had come alive again, a far cry from the solemn and gloomy atmosphere just moments before. Bokuto had singlehandedly breathed life into his court with his rousing words, words that he thought of and said with pride and conviction.

This was Fukurodani. They had known that Bokuto was the one who could lead them. They had known what Bokuto was capable of, and the fine leader he could make. All along, Akaashi thought he had grown to know Bokuto, learnt how to read him and work with him, but he hadn’t realized just how much Fukurodani knew their prince too. They had known all along. They had known Bokuto. In a way Akaashi couldn’t have.

If anyone saw the strange, sad look in the mage’s eyes, they didn’t ask.

Fukurodani was going to war.

  * ❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•



The stone steps clicked with the sound of quick and light footsteps.

The choosing ceremony had begun.

“I’m nervous,” Bokuto admitted. He was fidgety, thumbing at the fabric of his vest as he tried to sit still. 

“Breathe, Bokuto-san.”

There was no music and no fanfare this time. No large crowds and no dancing and no food. This was a private ceremony, one that the king and queen had preferred to keep under wraps. It was very hush-hush, and no more than four guards were stationed at the door at all times: two on the inside, two on the outside.

The stone ceiling shrouded in shadow and the intentional lack of light lent an air of grim dignity to the place, further pushing the prince into making a choice that he had dreaded for a while now. The cloth laid over the back of his chair was too scratchy, too heavy, too musty. Everything was closing in on him, the room, the choices, the decision. His  _ fate _ was hanging in the balance. This decision would change his life.

When they escorted the line of suitors into the room, Bokuto gulped visibly. There was no room for ambiguity this time. It was hard, especially with the one he harbored feelings for standing right by his side. Akaashi was watching him choose a life that he could never lead with the mage, and for every possible reason it was killing Bokuto that he couldn’t do anything to change their fates.

“ _ I’m sorry _ ,  _ Bokuto-san _ .”

“Huh, what was that?” Bokuto turned to look, but the mage was gone.

“Akaash—”

“It is time for the prince to make his choice,” the royal advisor started speaking before Bokuto could call out for Akaashi. He was given no time to puzzle over where the mage could’ve gone, and at such a crucial moment at that.

Maybe Akaashi didn’t want to be there when he made such a difficult choice. Maybe he didn’t want to disappoint Bokuto by telling him outright that he didn’t want to be there. Bokuto understood. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Akaashi to stay if he didn’t want to. 

“Point to the suitor you have chosen.”

There were five of them lined up in a row, heads bowed and dressed sharply in the Fukurodani royal colors: black, grey, and yellow—awaiting his choice with a damning intensity. It had been a gruelling process. Fukurodani was relentless with their suitors, even though they were desperate trying to find out for their prince. It wasn’t easy making it here, but it would be harder making it further than where they were already standing. Tension boiled between them and adark flicker of hope ignited in all of their eyes, even though every single one of them already knew the obvious outcome of who Bokuto was going to choose.

The prince approached the line with his sword drawn. His blade roved up and down, never straying too far from the middle, ready to drop on his decision and indicate the one he was going to marry.

“Him.”

There was no doubt about it. There was never any doubt about it.

Bokuto had chosen the masked man.

The man looked up, eyes gleaming behind the white bird mask that everyone had come to know. There was no surprise there either. 

“Hold on.”

All eyes turned to the front of the room.

The king had spoken.

“We have one more thing to make certain of before we proceed.”

The masked man showed no emotion. He was dressed in the same pristine white cloak that he had donned the first time he danced with the prince. He stood, sure and unmoving, the picture of composure and grace. He was unshakable behind the mask and he knew it.

“Remove your mask.”

The words rang out like a slap across the face.

Still, the masked man remained unmoving.

Bokuto’s jaw had dropped somewhere along the way.

Even the guards looked concerned.

Nobody dared to speak for a very long time. There was an unbearable, straining tension in the air, stretched so taut and tight across the room that any sound might break it and shatter the moment. 

“Remove it.” The king’s face was stormy and firm. “I will not ask again.”

Bokuto thought he might explode if someone didn’t do something soon.

It might have been the unthinkable, it might have been surprising, but nobody knew how to react when the masked man started to lift his hands up, as if starting to pull his mask off his face. Was this finally the end of the mystery? Was the world going to find out who the mysterious masked man who had captured the elusive heart of the prince was? Was the balance of the natural world going to be upset by this sudden development?

The masked man gave Bokuto one last piercing stare.

He could see a world closing away behind that mask.

**_Fwoosh_ ** .

The screams erupted when the smoke did.

Plumes and plumes of thick, choking purple smoke billowed across the stone, filling the room in an instant. There was zero visibility and a lot of coughing as everyone tried to regain their senses, peering through the cloud.

The masked man was gone!

He was gone.

When the smoke cleared, all that was left standing where the masked man stood mere moments ago was a fading plume of smoke and a white object. Running over to the center of the room, Bokuto picked it up.

He paled, the blood draining from his face.

It was the mask.

Standing there, clutching the white mask in hand, he looked up to the heavens. 

He made a choice.  _ Did he make the right one? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Justice card has always held a special place in my existence. Balance, double-edged sword, truth, all of it lining up. Anyway, I have really brought out the symbolism in this chapter. The sword, the mask, the double identity, the black and white, light and dark, victory and sacrifice.
> 
> The beauty of this chapter is that the choice Bokuto had to made was never between the suitors. It was whether he was going to choose the masked man or Akaashi, and even then, it was both sides of the same blade.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and do drop a comment if you're feeling the story. You know the drill. 
> 
> There WILL be angst in the coming chapters, so stick around.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	14. the hanged man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xii. the hanged man  
> | sacrifice, letting go, surrender
> 
> The Hanged Man hangs upside down, seeing the world from a completely different perspective. His facial expression is calm and unmoving, resolved even, telling of how the choice to hang was his own. He is a figure of ultimate surrender, suspended in time between hard choices and sacrifices that must be made for the greater good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins.

Akaashi had never been particularly good at letting go.

He had left worlds behind for a life of solitude and mastery, always moving and leaving and travelling. Every stop was always temporary, just a respite from the never-ending march of his life, pinpoints along the way on a journey with no destination. Home was but a thing of storybooks and myths, a warm feeling that he could never quite reach in the cold of a lonely winter. He was always letting go, running away, leaving things behind—but it never got easier over time. 

For the longest time, he was okay with it. He had made peace with his loneliness, wrapped it up in beautiful swathes of magic and stardust and light, displaying it proudly on his chest like a sordid trophy for the world to see. He was living proof that a human could survive alone without someone to hold close in the night or a shoulder to cry on through the darkest times. Sometimes his loneliness ate him whole when he was feeling particularly down, but he would throw himself back into his work and when he saw what he could do with the world around him and the power within himself, he decided that he quite liked the feeling of being alone. 

He could play the part of an observer. Whispering in the shadows and weaving up the light, he could see what others couldn’t and hear all that was left unspoken. He observed more than he should sometimes, and it was both a blessing and a curse. It was a burden of knowledge, but a liberation of the soul. Only when he observed did he feel truly at ease. Observation was careful and precise, intuitive and uncertain, and it certainly fit his cautionary yet curious nature. It wasn’t something he could control, but it was something that he couldn’t imagine living without.

So it was no surprise when he started to tune in to the people around him when he was working in court. He had grown accustomed to the usual manner of the people that he met during his time in court. He observed body language, every miniscule shift in facial expression, lapses in speech—anything that was telling of what people were feeling, seeing, or thinking. Everybody was wearing a mask, one that concealed what opinions and truths they harbored deep within. 

It wasn’t inherently wrong to wear a mask. It could be a shield, some form of protection. It could be a weapon, glancing others’ hearts with the cold, impenetrable facade of pretense. It could be all you ever known, for the world never taught anybody how to be real and genuine and exposed. Now that was a learning process, and one that even a great mage had to navigate.

It was a huge task trying to keep his composure at the table the next morning. Personal feelings and caveats aside, he had a job to do. He was relatively attached to his work, and he couldn’t let emotions get in the way of that. 

It felt strange returning to the humdrum bustle of everything in the castle after the events that transpired last night. He threw away the mask, but now? He felt like he was hiding even more than before. He was still masquerading, playing a part, pretending like he had no idea what was really going on. It made him uneasy.

The mask was the one thing that hid his identity, but it was also the one thing that built him a new one. It was ironic. Akaashi was free, free-er than all the people in the castle and the people in the kingdom and the people with a home. Yet he felt like he couldn’t ever find the kind of freedom he wanted, the freedom to  _ be _ .  _ The freedom to love _ . And though the mask hid who he truly was, it gave him that much at least.

Yet, he didn’t want to love from behind a mask. 

If he couldn’t be with Bokuto as who he really was, then he would rather not be with him at all. As good as he was at hiding, he didn’t enjoy it. Everything felt muffled and controlled and wrong, like every action he did and word he said fell short. 

So he left the mask behind.

Unfortunately, getting rid of that identity only gave him temporary escape.

“Nekoma hasn’t made a move yet.”

The air inside the room hummed with restlessness, but the faces of all those present were stony and resolved. Everyone had been given a brief reprieve to collect their heads and steel their nerves, and now they were back together to hash out a plan. 

Bokuto shifted in his seat.

Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was the heavy nature of the topic at hand, but he was being extra restless today. His lips were slightly curled and his brow furrowed, as if he was trying to hold back the discomfort he felt under the surface. He was trying to listen, and he clearly understood that the discussion called for his attention, but something was making him fidget more than usual.

Akaashi felt a twinge of guilt. His disappearance at the choosing ceremony seemed to have taken its toll on Bokuto’s focus. He didn’t regret the decision at all, but seeing Bokuto dealing with its consequences wasn’t the best feeling either.

“Bokuto-san, I’m sure Kuroo-san is doing okay,” Akaashi leaned in and whispered, his tone even and steady against the short, twitching movements Bokuto made. “I have confidence in his ability to hold his own. Besides, he has Kenma to help him. Worry about yourself first. I know these days have been tough, but you’re strong enough.”

Bokuto unclenched his shoulders, slumping back against the seat.

“You’re right, Akaashi.”

That was exactly what he needed to hear.

Bokuto wasn’t worried about Kuroo’s abilities and leadership. Time and time again, he had seen his friend rise up through the hardest of challenges and surpassed the toughest obstacles. If there was anyone capable of proving his worst doubts wrong and claiming the true power of the crown, Kuroo was the one. Right behind his love for fun and antics, he was strong and steadfast, stoic and brave, determined and resilient. He would always find a way out and think of his kingdom. And with Kenma by Kuroo’s side, Bokuto had no doubt that he would fight till the end. He could only dream of a day he could feel what they had.

He thought he found something more when he met the masked man. Something deeper, something higher, something further. Something close to  _ love _ . He wanted to feel what it was like to love someone. Seeing Kuroo and Kenma share that special bond, he couldn’t help but feel like he would be missing out on something big in life if he didn’t get to find something like that too.

As if reading his mind, Akaashi spoke again.

“Fukurodani and Nekoma have always been two very powerful kingdoms,” he said. “I have no doubt that they will rise again, as many times as it takes. Do you know why I think that?”

This was what Akaashi was good at. The subtle influence from the shadows. A slight pulling of strings. A well-placed whisper of truth. Pinpointing minor changes and shifts. His magic may have been extravagant and large and radiant, but he could not say the same for himself, nor did he want to.

Bokuto’s attention had been captured.

“No, why?”

“Your kingdoms rely on  _ love _ ,” Akaashi said, voice barely a whisper. “Love for the people, love for the world, love for life, and most of all, love for each other. Love surpasses all, eventually. Love always wins. I don’t know if you should trust that Fukurodani will claim total victory in this coming war, but you have to trust that your kingdom and Nekoma, as well as you and Kuroo, will reunite again at the top, Bokuto-san. Love doesn’t have to come in the form of romance.”

Akaashi did not speak a lot, but when he did, his words carried impact.

“You already know love, Bokuto-san,” the mage continued, seemingly unable to stop. “You’re full of it. Your heart is so huge, and I can see that you love your people and your family and your friends. Stop looking for it and start enjoying it. Let it lift you.”

Akaashi knew love. He’s always known love. But when it came to loving someone like that, he knew he couldn’t hold on to it again. The last time he tried...he didn’t want to think about it. 

Bokuto was silent, his eyes wide and blinking.

“Wow, Akaashi.”

Akaashi met his stare.

“Who knew you were so good at pep talks?”

Akaashi laughed, a tiny and melodic sound. 

“I have my ways, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s eyes filled up with the same fire that Akaashi fell in love with. He offered the mage a strong and confident smile, but his heart was still visible in his stare. It was a delicate balance: the pursuit of victory and the quest for love—but Bokuto’s heart had always been big enough for both. It was magnificent, and Akaashi couldn’t help but be impressed, amazed, entranced.  _ Smitten _ .

“You’re magic, you know that?” Konoha broke their moment. “I’ve never seen Bokuto recover from one of his emo outbursts so fast.”

“Yeah! A true miracle is what it is,” Komi remarked.

Bokuto chuckled, rubbing his head.

“I am a mage, after all, Konoha-san,” Akaashi said, a careful smile on his face.

The king’s attention had been turned towards him. 

Even with his head bowed, Akaashi could see the doubt in his eyes.

No, he wasn’t oblivious to what they truly thought about him.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“A love potion.”

The king’s brow furrowed deeper in thought. It was reminiscent of the way Bokuto furrowed his every time he thought about anything. They had many similarities—father and son—which was something to spare enough thought, really. 

“I’m not sure how magic works, but His Highness does seem pretty enamored,” Sarukui offered. He took a neutral stance in this matter, his voice fair and firm. He wasn’t close to Bokuto, but his duties were similar to those of the prince. 

Washio nodded in agreement, silent but stoic.

“Have you seen the way he can get the prince out of his depressed moods?”

“I’ve seen the way the prince looks at him.”

“It must be sorcery.”

“Magic. Dangerous magic.”

“It just doesn’t seem likely,” Konoha remarked. “Akaashi-san has always been firm in his principles. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for this.”

Konoha had always been slightly fonder of the great mage than the rest. He held a steadfast respect for Akaashi and his craft, always greeting him with formality. The mage had been nothing but helpful during his time in court.

“He’s human, after all,” Komi murmured. “He’s not immune to temptation either.”

“But why?” Konoha frowned. “Why would he do anything of the like?”

“Power?” Washio brought up. 

“He has all the power a human could possibly have,” Konoha reminded. 

The mage’s power was not to be joked about. Akaashi was powerful enough to level armies on his own, and while none of them had seen such destructive power in action, they were sure that the legends and whispers about his legacy were not to be taken lightly.

“Riches?” Komi spoke up next. “Authority?  _ Lust _ ?”

Sarukui kicked him under the table.

“What if he’s just doing it because he really likes Bokuto?” Konoha fired back.

“Maybe you’re too emotionally involved here.”

The king’s voice was heavy and serious. 

Konoha sunk back down in his seat, bowing his head respectfully.

“Forgive me, I have spoken out of turn.”

“Whatever the reason,” the king said. “The mage poses a problem. A  _ threat _ .”

There was no disagreement there. 

Every single one of them around the table knew just how dangerous an outsider could be. If their prince had fallen for someone who wasn’t of Fukurodani blood—be it through a potion or of his own accord—it could upend the entire royal bloodline. It could create chaos and and uproar across the kingdom. Such instability could topple the kingdom’s reign before the war even reached them.

“We must do something about the problem,” the royal advisor chimed in. “And quick. We need a king for the coming war, not a prince. He must not be distracted.”

The king frowned deeper.

The room hummed with a nervous air. None of them wanted to provoke the king, not when he was in an especially bad mood. He wasn’t the only one who had been quite affected by the botched choosing ceremony. Ever since that fateful night, a blanket of gloom and shock had been hanging over the entire court. 

Now that Bokuto no longer had a suitor, they were at a loss. The prince had been so distraught that nobody had dared to even bring up the idea of choosing another. As much as they had to make a move quickly, they didn’t want to risk upsetting their emotionally volatile prince even further.

What should they do next?

“ _ The mage has to go _ .”

From the resolved looks on all their faces, nobody thought otherwise.

Nobody saw the figure that darted out of the room either—the telltale shimmer of a glamour whispering through the air behind them.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Bokuto ran blindly through the streets, tearing through the rain.

The storm nipped at his heels, chasing him through the winding roads as he ran with all his might. The raindrops dug into his skin where it wasn’t covered by his cloak, sending pinpricks of cold all the way down to his bones. His face was colored with distraught, eyes wide 

He had to get there quick, before it was too late.

Through the square, past the butcher’s, slipping through all the narrow alleys. He emerged back into the narrow corner of the town, where the familiar stone walls surrounded him and the shopfronts were dark and empty.

The shop. He had to get to the shop.

Spinning and running towards the end of the row, Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest, his stomach filling with a dread. He ran and ran, every muscle in his body screaming along with his heart and his head.

Just a little more and he would find it. He  _ had _ to find it, before—

_ No _ . No. No no no no no.

It was gone.

The familiar oak door carved into the stone was gone. The windows that peered into the intriguing dim depths of the curiosities were no longer there, only cold grey stone left in its place. All that greeted him was a wall. An unspeaking, unmoving wall. 

It was like the shop had never existed in the first place.

Not even a speck of dust, or a loose nail, or a shred of paper.

Bokuto sank to his knees.

He was too late.

_ Fuck _ .

As the storm drummed down heavier over the kingdom, nobody was around to witness the anguished cry that lashed out towards the heavens. It was a cry of anger, a cry of regret, and a plea to the universe. 

The world could have ended around the prince and he wouldn’t even notice.

He was too caught up with the ending of his own.

From across the street, a masked figure stood staring at the prince.

A flash of lightning struck down from the skies—unforgiving and sharp.

When the thunder rolled across the dark black sky, the figure was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hanged Man is a very curious card to me, as is the idea of sacrifice and letting go. Akaashi represents the Hanged Man in this chapter, very aptly I might add. 
> 
> It's taking me very long to write each chapter but only because I'm working on so many other stuff and I want each chapter to be fulfilling and decently written. also I realize I've made a mistake in counting my chapters so there are 23 now, one more chapter to look forward to!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and do drop a comment if you're feeling the story. You know the drill. It only gets angstier here on out.
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	15. death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xiii. death  
> | change, transformation, transition
> 
> Death carries a silver crown, carrying a beauty that few would associate with it. It carries with it two things: an ending, and a beginning. A herald of change. An omen of transformation. A royal figure lies dead on the ground in its wake, while a young woman and a child plead Death to spare them. But as we all know, Death spares no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me take this opportunity to link you to a very apt [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/23RFk4pVSSjUqk7uSXFUpk?si=-j4qLo1RS-GVAGr2uIh62w) for this chapter, and this whole story actually.

The kingdom of Fukurodani rarely batted an eye at a sombre and pallid morning. Those were a dime a dozen in these cold regions, ones where the sun shone weak and the sky was grey and dull. It didn’t mean that people had to be downcast like the weather, or that life would stop going on in the villages and towns. No, a bleak morning didn’t halt the activities of the kingdom,  _ the death of a king did _ . 

They were told that it was uremia, a disease of the kidneys. Bokuto couldn’t stand to stick around for the explanation, all he knew was that it was natural, and there was nobody he could blame it on. Of all the noble purposes that could have resulted in the death of his father, a medical condition wasn’t one of them. He always thought his old man would go down in battle, arrow to the heart or something like that. His father was always telling him grand tales of war and humanity from back when he was Bokuto’s age. He supposed that it painted a deceptive picture of the frail reality they were faced with here: that humans were mortal, even kings. 

He supposed he should’ve seen it coming. His father’s health had never been the best it could’ve been. The king’s larger-than-life personality always made it seem like he was stronger, and happier than he actually was. It was easy to forget how the people closest to you had their own weaknesses and vulnerabilities too. Bokuto had always known that his father’s time was near, but by the gods was he not prepared for it.

The kingdom was going to be in mourning. They would be at their weakest, fraught with grief and colored with sorrow, now that their ruler was no longer at the helm. It was only natural that life was going to be out of order for a while. Nobody could’ve seen this coming. Yet the atmosphere was rife with an impalpable dread of what was to come. If the king’s death was the lightning, then the war was the storm. Whether they could weather the thunder of a battle now was another story.

Bokuto couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Of course, the crown would go to him, being Fukurodani’s only heir. It had never been a question. Except now, everything was so wrong and twisted. His destiny was coming to life, but he had never felt more morose about it in his life. The death of his father had borne him to his throne, but now he was thrown into the choppy waters of a kingdom struck with fear and loss with nothing but the crown on his head and a broken heart.

“Your coronation will be moved to tomorrow morning,” Yukie had told him. She had come out in place of his own mother, who couldn’t bring herself to face him in the wake of her own grief. His coronation would only be a reminder of what she had lost. Even Yukie looked at him like he was just a shadow of what the kingdom could’ve been. One of happiness, celebration, and life. She looked almost sorry.

The preparations were brief, hurried. Everything was a blur around him, people and their faces, and the sounds of their voices—everyone telling him what to do, what to wear, how to act. This time he did not disobey. It was like he had lost the will to fight against who he was meant to be, and he was losing out against the clawing arms of his own destiny. He let it take him. He was always meant to be king, after all.

The powerful voices filled the cold air in the room, notes of dismal beauty and cries of eerie solace descending from the rows of mournful singers crowding the alcove above the altar, where the tall glass windows gave way to moonlight. This was the first time a ruler of Fukurodani was crowned by the night—daylight was too precious now to squander on symbolic purposes like this.

There were familiar faces in the pews—representatives from his own court, representatives of kingdoms they were allied with, friends and family—but Bokuto could no longer see them. He had his back to them, a long cloak stitched together from silver feathers trailing behind him. He could see his mother off to the right with a face of steel, as if all the light had gone out in her eyes. On the left stood his closest peers: Yukie, whose stoic face lent him the bare strength he needed to keep from breaking down, and Konoha, whose solemn but encouraging smile he was grateful for, even if he couldn’t return it. Kuroo smiled at him with that stupid catlike grin, but even Bokuto could see through to the sadness in his eyes. This may be the last time they were meeting on amicable grounds.

His eyes flicked to the darkened corners around him, half-expecting to see a set of blue eyes staring back at him from the shadows. One that could tell him that this was exactly what he was meant to do, that this was exactly where he was meant to be. But every time he thought he saw a flicker of a familiar face staring piercingly at him from the sidelines, it was merely a figment of his own racing imagination, one pieced together from wild hope and foolish desire. Akaashi was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

He bowed his head—a surrender.

The crown alighted on his head, heavy. It was a crown fashioned out of pure silver, no precious stones, no unnecessary decorations. The kingdom’s soul was said to be held in this very crown, and now he was wearing it. 

“As he wears the silver crown, and as he stands before you in this sacred place, I present to you—”

The room was stricken with tense anticipation.

“—King Bokuto of Fukurodani.”

The room erupted into cheers. Cheers of mourning, cheers of grief, cheers of celebration, and cheers of relief. Voices howling with the weight of a loss, barreling through the room and reaching up to the ceiling like a battle cry, for they may very well be one. They were calling his name. They were calling him  _ king _ .

He had never felt lonelier.

As his eyes darted about, searching for solace in the crowd, he steeled himself. Change was here. It was a new era, and he was the dark herald of it. Everything felt so right, but it felt so wrong, like it was all upside down and his lifelong dream had been turned into a nightmare. 

His eyes hardening, Bokuto turned to the room with a stoic face. It was what his father would’ve done. A ruler didn’t turn tail and run in the face of peril. They fought with their kingdom. They stood tall and strong when the people didn’t have strength to. It was his duty, and one he was preparing himself for his entire life. He didn’t know what his father would say if he were here. Was he a failure for being crowned king without someone to rule by his side, or a hero for taking on the responsibility in the darkest hour?

Bokuto looked to his mother. She was significantly more composed now, an uneasily dark but hard look in her eyes. If there was anyone who understood the challenges of ruling an entire kingdom, it was her. He knew what she was thinking. First her husband, now her son. How many more of her loved ones would take up the royal mantle, eventually succumbing to the unrelenting and merciless tide of fate?

He looked to Kuroo. His best friend. The one who had seen him through all the rebellious and irresponsible and reckless phases, only to pick him back up and turn him around and push him off towards his destiny again. The same friend who was now watching him come into his own, and the same friend who he might have to fight. It was all terribly confusing, and too much for Bokuto.

He looked to the moon, huge and swollen in the night sky outside, swathed in belts of stars. Stars that were free in the sky to shine and dazzle everyone with their brilliance, but could only remain stuck in the night sky, where nobody could touch them. They were remarkable, but so out of reach. They seemed to laugh at him with their twinkling and a touch of irony.  _ Can you see these same stars too, Akaashi _ ?  _ Can you see me _ ?

He looked away.

This was his destiny. He was king now.

_ So why did it feel so difficult to swallow? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so goddamn long to write this chapter and it's shorter than usual BUT I swear I'm getting back into the hang of writing this story. It is so dear to me, so thank you for reading and sticking around. I'm busy working on a few writing events like bangs now but I will strive to get the next chapter written up faster than this one took.
> 
> Look, the Death card typically does not mean actual death, but I chose to take it literally this time. Death is another card which I am very acquainted with. Change. Perfect for this chapter, where everything changes for Bokuto and Fukurodani. It's not just ending, it's a beginning. And here's where it all begins.
> 
> Drop a comment if you're feeling the story. You know the drill. 
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


	16. temperance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xiv. temperance   
> | balance, self-restraint, moderation
> 
> A winged creature has one foot in the water and one foot on the earth, grounded yet in flow. The journey ahead is long and arduous, and balancing between the elements will be no easy task. Step too far and they'll fall into the water only to drown. Step too far again and they'll hurt their knees on the rocks, never to walk again. How will they advance while staying true to the balance of the natural order of the world and who they are and what they're meant for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back. This took so fucking long but I read every single comment I've received on this story and I am renewed with inspiration.

There were no stars out tonight. The sky was a blue so dark it was practically black, swathed with reluctant wisps of clouds that bore down upon the land. There was a curiously salty smell hanging in the still night that pulled away every time Bokuto tried to catch a better whiff. Did it come here all the way from the ocean? There were no unruly winds, and barely so much as a light breeze, so it was as good a mystery as the ones that have befallen Fukurodani as of late.

Bokuto tried to breathe. 

He only had this sliver of time to himself—away from the throes of a panicking court, away from the heart of the crowds down below, away from the overwhelmingly silent sorrow that spilled forth from the queen’s room. Up here in the clocktower—one of the highest points in the kingdom—he was alone.

Bokuto had always known what it would be like to be king. His parents were kind, but they were not stupid. They knew what it would take to get a precocious child like him to grow fit enough to rule. He may have become a king overnight, but it had taken Bokuto his entire life to learn all the roles and responsibilities that went into heading a kingdom, to being in the monarchy. He had been training to be king ever since he could walk or talk, and some days when he felt like the days ahead were bleak and dismal, at least he had the promise of the throne to fall back on.

Even then, everything had felt like a distant reality. Something he only had to worry about when he became of age, something he could put off by wanting to be free. He had been preparing so much, but was it any use if all he could see were the confines of the castle and the borders of one kingdom. Bokuto loved Fukurodani, but sometimes he felt a little suffocated by how little and how much there was for a king.

Being king was his destiny. Yet he had always been at war with it. His desire to be king and his dream to be free were constantly at war with each other—two opposites fighting against each other and grappling for control over his conscious thought and actions. What if this was his destiny? What if it was his destiny to choose one of them? What if it was his destiny to refuse personal freedom for glorious duty? What if it was his destiny to refuse the kingly title for a life of discovery and exploration? He didn’t know, and it was killing him with every passing day.

He leaned down on his hands, elbows parked on the cold stone ledge. It was at that moment that he came to understood a fundamental truth: you could only truly value freedom once you had it taken away from you. 

Bokuto had never been free. It was a truth that he had taken years, all of his life even, to come to terms with. To make peace with. He wasn’t free. He couldn’t ever be free. Even if he really wanted to. Desire didn’t always translate to reality. He had let go of the notion that if he willed it hard enough, he could finally be free one day. Becoming king was only a confirmation of that.

He sighed. He was tired.

There was a thought surfacing in the troubled waters of his mind. It was something that he should’ve realized much earlier on, but now that it was too late, the thought trickled through with a prickle of melancholy.

The only time he had a taste of true freedom was when he was with  _ Akaashi _ . 

Akaashi was a mystery that not even Bokuto was close to understanding, but the mage was always true to himself. There was no game of pretense, no forced mannerisms to fit in when it came to courtly interactions, no false tact and no insensitive judgment either. He didn’t hide behind a mask like Bokuto did when things got hard, or push other people away when he needed to solve a problem.

Akaashi was so blatantly Akaashi that even Bokuto could dare to let the truer parts of himself shine through. Sure, he was a monarch, and he was a loud and boisterous individual—all these were huge parts of him, but they weren’t the only parts of him. There were quieter and more thoughtful parts, angry and hurt parts, weak and vulnerable parts—all of them hidden behind his voice and his smile and his large round eyes. Bokuto knew how testy and difficult he could come across when he got lost in his own head. People had been all sorts of irritated at him for having a bad day. Even he knew how annoying he could be, but some days it was hard to control his true feelings. 

Akaashi made him feel like he could be open about these parts, and everything would still be okay. He felt like he didn’t have to hide when he was around the mage. There was something so easy about letting go when he was talking to Akaashi, when Akaashi’s presence reached out silently and engulfed his own with a stoic tenderness. There was something so grounding about Akaashi’s presence, about his company, and the way he looked at Bokuto as if it was okay if he wasn’t his best all the time. Akaashi may have been secretive and distant and restrained, but Bokuto had always thought he was kind. 

He wasn’t going to deny it. He missed Akaashi. And now he was gone.

It felt like Bokuto’s world had been pulled out from right under him and he was starting to slip into a whirlwind of turbulent emotions that wouldn’t quit. First, Akaashi was gone. Then, his father. His friends were busy fighting their own battles. Who else would be out of his life next, and could he really blame them?

The clock chimed twelve, a shrill but deep reverberation of the bell behind him.

When the sun came up at dawn, it would be a new day. It would be a new day where Bokuto was king. It would be a new day, another day closer to the looming threat of war. It would be a new day where Akaashi wouldn’t be there. Bokuto would be lying if he said that the thought didn’t send a stab of pain right through his heart. 

He liked to think that he had a boundless reservoir of hope, but it was at moments like these that he understood that hope couldn’t fix everything. Sitting around wallowing in an ocean of sorrow wasn’t going to fix anything. His fingers came to rest on the silver hilt attached to his side. It was a sword that he come to love and hate, one that would forever tie him to a special bond, but one that he may have to use against someone who he could never consider his enemy. 

Everything was hanging in the balance.

Bokuto had been fighting for so long to accept that his destiny lay here in this very kingdom, in Fukurodani.

Now it was up to him to decide its fate. 

There were no stars out tonight. The sky was a deep, dark shade of blue—deep like the oceans that Akaashi had once traversed, and dark like the shadows that danced in the depths of the forbidden forests on the edge of the world. The salty smell in the air did not bother him at all. The smell of the ocean was one he was familiar with. It did not belong here in Fukurodani, but he would have to live with it anyway. It was time he stopped interfering in matters of the kingdom. Those were beyond his jurisdiction now.

The stagnant air felt uneasy on his skin, his lips crooked into a thought-laden frown. The mountains held a foreboding air that wasn’t easy to decode. He could sense trouble on the horizon. There was a storm coming. A storm even he could not stop, and one that Fukurodani had to weather alone. Make no mistake, he held no grudge against the ones who banished him from the court, but he made sure not to stay where his trade wasn’t welcome.

He had forgotten all about the comfort of temporality. His curiosity shop had always been his anchor, the one familiarity in a world of the constantly-shifting unknown, grounding him to this earthly plane. He had been drawn to the idea of money, to be able to support his learning endeavors and keep enough to keep on moving, but eventually it became so much more than that. It was a home of sorts, and he sought comfort and solace in arranging the wares and making sure that the place was open through the night lest anybody had any emergencies that required his immediate magical attention. He had become a shopkeeper just as much as a mage.

Akaashi’s heart had a funny irony in the way it held itself. It so desperately wished to be perceived for itself, none of the facades and none of the fancy gimmicks and none of the tricks. It longed to be put on the weighing scale of life and weighed against the universe for all to see. Maybe one day, someone would finally gaze at it in its entirety without bursting into flames.

Yet his heart had a persistent penchant for the romantic, the misunderstood, the imagination. The truth was, Akaashi did enjoy it when nobody knew exactly who he was. A great mage who could coax the stars’ will. A lonely wanderer with no home and no kingdom. A traitorous creature who harbored terrible intentions of overthrowing the monarchy. All of it delighted him so, not because of their nature, but because there was such an inherent thrill in hiding his true identity from the world. Maybe that was why he put on the mask. Was his own desire to be misunderstood overtaking his love for a certain prince? No, he refused to believe so. Yet even then, a pinprick of guilt thread through the aching tendrils of his heart and the steel cold walls he had put up around it. Bokuto had been nothing but kind to him, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t once had hope for the two of them and where they were going. It was a shame that it had to end so soon.

How could he go back to wandering the world again now that he had a taste of what home could feel like? Bokuto felt like home to him, even if he had never stayed in one. How someone could make him feel so loved and welcome, could make him feel like he  _ belonged _ , was beyond the mage. He had always thrived off the exclusion, the alienation, as if he was simply a part of the universe, a cog in the grand scheme of things, turning along with an infinite number of other parts to create the natural flow of the cosmos. He may have been powerful enough, but not even a mage like him could command the stars to bend to the will of a human like himself. He had so much power, and he would like to believe that he was beyond the grasp of fate’s claws, but it was at moments like this that he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Akaashi steeled himself and breathed.

He had to end it. He had a responsibility, both to himself and to Bokuto. He had a responsibility in making sure that his past didn’t invade into his present, into anybody’s present, really. He was fighting a war of his own, one completely separate from the one that Fukurodani was about to face. To stay or to leave. To love or to be lonely. He would never know whether he would make the right choice, standing on the knife’s edge at the reckoning of a choice.

He missed Bokuto. 

Akaashi bowed his head, a reckless knowledge drowning his heart. Bokuto loved him. And he loved Bokuto back. That was what made it so hard to do what he had to do in the end. There was no winning and no losing here, simply what had to be done. He could not love Bokuto, and he would let Bokuto keep on loving him back.

Was this what they called destiny? Written in the stars? What a cruel taunt from the universe. 

He sighed—a quiet plea unheard.

Akaashi would leave by the dawn.

As Bokuto turned away from the stone ledges of the empty clock tower, Akaashi made his way back down the hill. Two lovers, separated by the stars, walking as two, lonely as one. Light and darkness. A star and a celestial mage. A royal and a straggler. Two figures walking on each side of the same blade. Two extremes with no idea how to take the middle road. Two people who were just trying to stay true to what they knew and had always knew. 

The truth was, the universe worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes you got what you wanted, and sometimes you didn’t. Whether it was up to a human to decide was anybody’s guess really. 

One thing is for certain. Bokuto and Akaashi surely did not choose their own fates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, as you can see I have rebranded. I did reread this entire story wondering if I should edit it and then take even longer to update because I'd be editing from the start, but ultimately, I decided that I am proud of what I have written in the previous chapters, so I will be continuing this story with (hopefully) frequent enough updates.
> 
> Temperance is the one card I've never been able to get on board with, but it is the thing that I need in my life, so I have been trying to understand it better, and this chapter is a product of my thoughts on this card in relation with the story.
> 
> Drop a comment if you're feeling the story. You know the drill. 
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


End file.
